Salavira’s mind went blank for a moment, and even the pain in his body seemed to fade away, leaving only the tingling sensation of their lips and teeth touching, which was magnified infinitely.
But this kiss was far from gentle.
In fact, Salavira couldn’t even call it a kiss.
Asmodeus was like a venomous snake that had finally caught its prey, meticulously nibbling on his lips. His agile and smooth tongue slowly, patiently, yet aggressively, took away the last bit of air from Salavira’s mouth.
The strong scent of alcohol mixed with a terrifying sense of suffocation spread over him, and in a daze, Salavira felt as if Asmodeus wanted to devour him whole.
This wasn’t some kind of lewd or ambiguous expression; it was purely a desire to consume him completely, to merge into one.
Yet, at this moment, he had no strength left to resist.
This went on for a long time, so long that Salavira was about to pass out from the lack of air before Asmodeus finally let him go.
“…Asmodeus.” Salavira gasped for breath, his eyes unfocused as he looked up at the person who held him gently yet almost took his life. He couldn’t help but ask again:
“What… do you really want to do?”
He coughed, a trace of blood with a hint of alcohol trickling from the corner of his mouth. Despite being so severely injured, Salavira still weakly pulled the corners of his lips into a mocking smile:
“Isn’t it revenge you want?” He hinted, sticking out his tongue a little to lick his reddened lips, “Is this… considered revenge?”
Asmodeus’s eyes were fixed on that little tongue that peeked out for a moment before retreating. His gaze darkened, and he reached out his thumb to wipe away the blood mixed with alcohol from Salavira’s lips.
“Good technique, did the church teach you that?”
“What… mm…” Salavira didn’t finish his sentence before that thumb suddenly pressed into his mouth, playing with his smooth, red tongue.
Soon, saliva secreted due to the foreign object overflowed from the corners of his mouth, making him extremely uncomfortable. Yet, Asmodeus’s finger remained wedged between his teeth, preventing him from closing his mouth.
Salavira could only glare at him.
But he didn’t understand that, as a captive with no threat, such a glare had no deterrent effect and only served to provoke the victor’s desire to torment.
And for someone like Asmodeus, whose intentions were never pure, it was more like a blatant seduction.
The amusement in his eyes deepened, making Salavira shiver with fear.
Then, the black shadows enslaved by Asmodeus danced over, transforming into soft, sticky tentacles that bound Salavira’s wrists and waist, with two slender yet flexible ones slipping from the sides of his tattered clothes…
Salavira shuddered violently, unable to suppress a cry.
Asmodeus withdrew his finger with amusement, smearing the sticky liquid on Salavira’s cheek.
Then he answered Salavira’s earlier question: “Does this have anything to do with so-called revenge? Heh heh…” He chuckled lowly, “Salavira, haven’t you already answered that question?”
“What…?”
Salavira couldn’t help but frown, but then he felt the black tentacles binding him gradually change, bit by bit, forming into two people identical to Asmodeus.
One had a stab wound in the chest, the other had their abdomen torn open, both covered in blood, holding Salavira’s wrists with one hand and caressing his waist or other more private areas with the other…
These were the two clones of Asmodeus that Salavira had injured earlier.
“Salavira, you said it yourself.” The clone pressed tightly against his right side whispered in his ear, “Instead of killing you outright, I should just fuck you to death in bed.”
The one on the left slowly tore away the few remaining pieces of fabric on Salavira, continuing, “I think… that’s a great suggestion.”
Salavira’s breathing hitched, and he could no longer maintain his calm facade, starting to struggle violently.
It wasn’t just because of the words from the clone and the original, but also because Salavira could clearly feel those things pressing against his lower abdomen, waist, and between his thighs.
…He would die.
…He would really die.
But Salavira realized in despair that he had no room to resist, and for him, passing out or dying would be a relief.
“No… you can’t, Asmodeus, you… mm!!”
He couldn’t finish his sentence before the demon holding him pressed down on his head and kissed him.
…
The world was dark, but clusters of ghostly blue flames floated around Salavira.
For the first time, he realized how long time could feel.
His tears had almost dried up, his voice was hoarse, and his limbs were drained of strength, leaving him to lean weakly against Asmodeus’s shoulder, gasping for breath. (Reviewer! They’re just hugging here!)
Asmodeus was much taller than him, so in his current position, his feet couldn’t touch the ground, and he had to stand on tiptoe on Asmodeus’s foot.
Beside them, a skeletal servant held a tall crystal glass filled with rich goat’s milk.
The rim of the glass was stained with crimson blood.
It slowly dripped down.
Drip, drip, soaking a small area…
“Salavira…” Asmodeus whispered with a smile, his tongue lightly licking the ear of the person in his arms, “Does it hurt?”
Salavira bit his lip, refusing to speak.
Seeing this, Asmodeus raised an eyebrow: “Be good, beg me, and I’ll let you down.”
But his words didn’t get the desired result. Upon hearing the word “beg,” the stubbornness in Salavira’s eyes intensified. He opened his mouth and bit down on the shoulder next to his mouth, drawing blood almost immediately.
“Tsk.” Asmodeus lightly patted his pale, pitiful hip, “Not obedient.”
…
Salavira forgot when he passed out.
As his consciousness gradually returned, so did the pain in his body. He couldn’t even tell where it hurt; every inch of his skin and bone felt like it had been taken apart and reassembled, hurting so much he could barely move.
But even amidst such pain, Salavira could clearly feel the strangeness of his body.
Yet the most difficult thing to ignore wasn’t the pain, but the indescribable soreness and swelling from a place that had been tortured the most…
The terrifying sensation made Salavira struggle to move, only to find that Asmodeus was no longer by his side, and those things causing him such discomfort were actually…
The painful, lewd memories from the ruins flooded back like a tide, turning Salavira’s face bright red in an instant.
It was only then that he realized he was no longer on the ruins.
He was in an exquisitely luxurious room, lying on a large bed in the center.
The person who placed him here seemed to cherish him greatly, making the bed incredibly soft, making one not want to get up once they sank into it. But that wasn’t the main point; to understand the decorator’s intentions, one had to look at the dark red blanket covering the top.
In the dim light, the blanket appeared black, but with a bit of light, it would shine with a red luster.
It matched his skin tone perfectly.
Compared to the iron cage in the temple, this bed was clearly a better platform to display beauty.
But the material of this blanket wasn’t as good as those in the temple, more beautiful than comfortable, with long fibers that weren’t overly soft, rubbing against the skin, even feeling a bit rough. For someone like Salavira, who had just been through a round of torment, it was a more detailed, indescribable torture.
This strange feeling reminded Salavira of Asmodeus’s hands.
Those hands were meant for holding a sword, covered with a thin layer of calluses, and the sensation of them caressing his body was very similar to this, making him feel as if he was still being toyed with by Asmodeus’s hands.
The thought sent a shiver down his spine, and Salavira shuddered, struggling to get out of bed despite his injuries.
But the earlier madness had drained his strength, and even after resting on the bed for so long, he hadn’t recovered much.
Salavira barely managed to prop himself up, moving his legs and arms slightly, but the soreness and numbness were unbearable. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to muster what little strength he had, trying to control his almost unresponsive limbs. After much effort, he finally managed to get one foot on the ground.
He panted slightly, a thin layer of sweat forming on his forehead from the short distance he had moved.
He sat on the edge of the bed to rest for a while, gathering enough strength to try standing up—
But he had underestimated his current state.
His legs were almost useless, and before he could stand straight, his calves began to tremble uncontrollably, and then he suddenly lost his balance, falling to the ground with a thud.
Fortunately, the floor was covered with a thick carpet, so the fall wasn’t too painful. But just as he was in such a sorry state, a voice with a hint of amusement suddenly came to his ears:
“Did you hurt yourself?”
It was supposed to be a caring question, but the tone was more like mockery.
Hearing this, Salavira looked up, only to notice that in the shadows beyond the candlelight, Asmodeus had been sitting there all along. He was holding a wine glass, gently swirling it, with his legs crossed, looking like he was enjoying a good show.
It seemed he had been watching him for a long time.
The thought that all his embarrassing moments had been seen by this guy made Salavira’s face turn even redder. He instinctively grabbed the dark red blanket hanging from the bed to cover his naked body, warily watching the demon in front of him.
—Even though every inch of his body had already been explored by this guy.
Seeing him like this, Asmodeus put down the wine glass, stood up, and walked over slowly. He first admired the marks he had left on Salavira’s body from above, then crouched down, suddenly scooping him up by the legs and waist, carrying him horizontally.
His body was suddenly lifted, and the fabric he had pulled over to cover himself slipped away, rubbing roughly against his skin, making him involuntarily let out a moan.
“What do you want to do now?!”
“‘Do’ what…” Asmodeus held him, squinting slightly, deliberately emphasizing the first word, guiding him to think in a certain direction, “Salavira, what else could I ‘do’?”
The words were heavily laden with aggression, but Salavira didn’t react as fearfully as Asmodeus had hoped. After understanding the implication, he merely shivered slightly, then closed his eyes with a look of resignation.
But the words he spoke were quite intimidating:
“Asmodeus…” He gritted his teeth fiercely, “One day, I’ll kill you.”
“Mm-hmm~ I’ll be waiting.”
The threat, light as it was, sounded more like flirting in the current situation.
But Asmodeus didn’t continue to torment him as Salavira had feared. Instead, he adjusted his hold on him and asked:
“What did you want to do when you got out of bed?”
“I…” Salavira wanted to say he was trying to leave, but he knew Asmodeus wouldn’t let him go easily, and saying so might provoke him further.
…But his body couldn’t take another round of torment from this guy.
So, as he spoke, Salavira paused subtly, then uncomfortably shifted his legs and said:
“I’m uncomfortable… take me to bathe.”