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Something you had always admired about Satan was his unrelenting curiosity.
If he had a question, he would stop at next to nothing to get answers. Of course, Satan’s definition of what an ‘answer’ was was more akin to doctoral research—but that just made it all the more attractive. He was observant, he was present, he cared not only about what was happening around him, but why those things occurred.
Satan’s quest for knowledge and subsequent research had spanned countless subjects and disciplines, some related, some random. Human irritability, reflexes, and corrective actions were his latest fixation, and you unfortunately found yourself as the main object of his afflictions.
How does the human body react to this, or that? Why does this reflex occur? What is the evolutionary history of this response? All questions you could not care less about, as a human, but were of course Satan’s bread and butter.
He had already covered human anatomy a few weeks prior, so you supposed this was a logical follow-up course of study. You did struggle to see some of the logic of his experiments and actions, however. To you, his research felt more like useless, insulting poking and prodding.
“I don’t understand why you can’t use Solomon for this,” you complained, holding your right arm straight out from your side.
“Solomon barely counts as human at this point. Unless you’re aware of any other human who has lived so long that the decades blur together,” he scoffed. “I don’t think he’s the most ethological subject, is what I mean.”
You sighed, but he wasn’t really wrong. It might be against the laws of nature for one person to be alive as long as Solomon.
“Alright, are you ready?” He smiled excitedly.
“I guess I am.”
“Good. Close your eyes.”
After a quizzical glance at him, you reluctantly closed your eyes. You heard some shuffling, and recognized that he was retrieving something from his nearby table of supplies.
“I’m going to touch your forearm with a few different objects of varying texture, temperature, and weight,” he quietly explained. But before you could nod in confirmation, he had already begun.
Something cold, slightly heavy, and smooth pressed into your skin. No, it was more than cold, it was freezing. You yanked your arm back with a gasp, opening your eyes in surprise. Looking down to his hand, you saw a small piece of shiny metal, a thin layer of frost coating its surface. Rather than reprimanding you for moving, Satan simply nodded, set the metal square back down onto the table, and began scribbling in his notebook.
He took your hand in his, and lifted your arm to eye level for closer inspection. “Wow. The area of contact is reddened after only a second or two of exposure,” he mumbled to himself.
You were focused less on the area of contact of the metal piece, and more on the area of contact of his hand on yours. He held it surprisingly delicately, which confused you, if anything.
“How cold is that?” You asked, gesturing to the square.
“About 5º Celsius,” he answered casually. “Have you heard of a human organization called NASA?”
You laughed, and nodded. “Everyone has heard of NASA.”
Satan flushed the tiniest bit, but shook it off as quickly as it had appeared. “I see. Well, for many years it seems that NASA has maintained the cold-touch threshold limit for humans as 0º Celsius—but that just seems too low, in my opinion.”
“Uh huh.”
“Clearly, your reaction alone stipulates that even 5º is too low.”
“Yeah.”
“So, I’d like to find out what the limit is for myself.”
You cocked your head and raised your eyebrows. He didn’t appear to get the hint.
You sighed, trying to find the words to say. “Satan, I really appreciate what you’re doing. I do. Figuring out the limit of coldness from tin squares is a great idea. I just . . .” You didn’t know if you had the heart to finish your criticism. You saw the way his eyes lit up at your reaction a few moments ago. Learning something, witnessing anything new, that was what he thrived on. This was his thing.
But he deserves honesty, too, you thought.
“You just what?”
“I just don’t think this will give you what you want. I want you to be successful, and carry out every experiment you could ever dream of. But I don’t think you can do that with just me and a few household objects in your bedroom.”
You bit your lip, and fiddled with your hands. “I’m happy to help you with your research. But I want you to get data that matters! I’m one person, and there’s billions of humans out there.”
It was quiet for a few moments. Satan looked at you pointedly, but his expression soon faded to a small smile. He chuckled, and lowered his head.
Your heart pounded as you watched him laugh quietly to himself, his newfound grin warming his face. You had no idea what this reaction was.
After a deep inhale, he stepped towards you and took both of your hands in his. Your face began to burn, but you maintained eye contact with him.
“Everything about you matters. From your opinions on my method to your cold-touch threshold limit. It all matters to me.”
It was your turn to laugh. You nervously giggled, and looked down at the floor. You were at a loss for words.
“You hear me?” he questioned softly, and you quickly nodded your head.
“I . . . I hear you. Thank you. For saying that.”
“You don’t need to thank me. I’m curious about humans, undeniably, but I’m curious about you more than anything. Everything you do feels like another piece to the puzzle.”
You wondered why you hadn’t burst into flames yet. Maybe that could be Satan’s next experiment—how much flattery and hand-holding would it take to turn you into a human torch?
“Why are you telling me all of this?”
“You were honest with me. I’d like to return the favor.”
You lifted your gaze up from the floor to look back at him. “If we’re being honest—if that’s what we’re doing—I have another question. A request.”
You really hoped the tension you felt wasn’t all in your head. It weighed you down, it brought you up, it brought you closer to him.
He nodded as a go ahead, and you exhaled sharply. You just needed to get it out .
“Will you kiss me?”
You waited with bated breath for his reply, but you never got one.
What you did get, however, was the warm pressure of his lips against yours. That was certainly enough of a response for you.
You didn’t even have time to be shocked, to react, to think. He raised your linked hands, and brought yours to rest on his shoulders as he kissed you. You went along with it, curling your fingers around the back of his neck, blissfully moving with him as he cupped your face with one free hand and clutched your hip with the other.
It was the two of you. Just you and him, together, sighing and gasping and panting, falling deeper into each other with every passing second.
You pulled back for air, but remained close, resting your forehead on his. “Thank . . . you,” you breathed.
“As I said, you don’t need to thank me,” he leaned back in for another chaste peck before smiling at you. “Would you like me to do anything else?”
Your heart skipped a beat. He wanted this just as much as you did, evidently, if not more.
“I think I would.”
“You think you would? Or you know you do?” He teased, lightening the mood while simultaneously making you feel like your knees were going to give out. You knew what you wanted, of course, but it was a totally different thing to say it out loud. But Satan of all people loved pushing you out of your comfort zone—and this was it.
“I know I do.”
He grabbed your hand and led you to his bed, which was mysteriously tidy compared to the rest of his bedroom. You sat lightly on the edge, eagerly anticipating what he might have had planned. To your surprise, rather than pushing you down and diving right in, he knelt before you and arranged himself on the floor between your knees, one of your legs on either side of him.
Your mouth fell open, and you froze as he lifted your uniform skirt to pool it closer around your hips. You simply watched in awe as he began carefully undressing you, slowly dragging your black tights down your legs. He slipped the fabric off and set them aside, taking the opportunity to run his fingers up and down your bare legs.
Goosebumps rose on your skin at his touch, which seemed to please him greatly. “This is all it takes to excite you?” He teased.
“I mean . . .” You paused, wondering if you should say what you really wanted to. You decided you should. You were being honest with each other. So far, honesty has gotten you to this point—and now you wondered how much further it could take you. “It’s just because you’re the one doing it,” you mumbled, trying not to look him in the eye.
“I see,” he grinned, easing your legs slightly farther apart. “So it wouldn’t be as good if Lucifer was doing it? Or Solomon, or Beel, or Asmo?”
It absolutely wouldn’t be as good if anyone else was doing it. You couldn’t recall a time where you had experienced this level of attraction, and you didn’t want to. All that mattered right now was Satan. He was who you wanted. He was all you wanted.
You shook your head. “You’re the only one I want to see like this. To see me like this,” you corrected. Or maybe you wanted to see him like this, too. You hadn’t really expected him to kneel before you—you were sure he’d be the type to just pounce on you, and have his way. But now that you were here, both options sounded equally delicious.
“That’s good to hear,” his hot breath pleasantly fanned over your dampening panties. “You’re the only one I want to see like this, too.” You trembled in suspense, and exhaled heavily when he kissed your center over the fabric.
He pulled your panties to the side with two fingers, exposing you to him. The change in temperature was noticeable, but his body heat and breath alone made it tolerable. He groaned quietly at the sight of you, and began shallowly sliding his thumb vertically through your slit. You covered your mouth with one hand, and gripped his duvet with the other. He straightened, lifting his thumb from your pussy and showing it to you. You were almost appalled at how wet it was. A tiny drip ran down his finger from the tip of his nail, almost mockingly, and you studied it as it fell. “Look at this . . . It really doesn’t take much, does it?”
He brought his slick thumb to his mouth, and made sure to keep eye contact with you as he sensually licked it clean. He leaned back down, this time spreading you open with both of his thumbs. The cool air bit this time, but it didn’t matter once his hot breath again washed over you.
You let out a muffled sound when he finally tasted you, languidly sliding over your folds with the flat of his tongue. He rhythmically brushed his tongue over your clit, sending small shocks up your body with each stroke. You bit your lip, removing your hand from over your mouth to rest delicately on Satan’s head.
‘Resting’ your hand didn’t last for long, however, and you quickly turned to tightly gripping his hair when he switched to suckling on your clit. You moaned as he worked, keeping a light but constant pressure and simultaneously massaging your labia with his thumbs. You concentrated not only on the glorious sensation, but his manner overall—he was so patient, so gentle with you, finding and focusing on the spots that you responded to best.
It was clear his actions were partially motivated by academic knowledge, but when paired with his personality and your emotions, the tension between the two of you was unbearable. His touch was nothing less than perfect.
“Satan, wai-wait, it feels really good,” your voice broke, and you removed your other hand from his bed to clutch his head in addition. “I’m really, clo—cl, ose,” you stumbled, gasping.
He continued, using his fingers to comfortingly press into your thighs, and moving his face impossibly closer into you. He brought you to the crest of where you wanted to be, but you needed to allow yourself to take the fall. He glanced up at you with soft eyes, still working your pussy, in an electric yet warm expression that told you it was okay. You could let go. As you lost yourself in his cerulean gaze, you found a part of him that wasn’t just allowing you to let go, but telling you to let go. He damn near commanded it.
And so you did. You came with a silent cry, jaw going slack and eyes squeezing shut. Spots flashed behind your eyelids, and your heels lifted off the floor as you subconsciously ground your pussy into his face. You sharply released the breath you didn’t realize you were holding and gasped for air, still holding tightly onto his head and rolling your body in hardly controlled waves. You moaned quietly as you rode through the aftershocks of your orgasm, and once you had finally finished, Satan pulled away from you with one last flick of his tongue and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.
He grinned widely at you, and you gave him a small dazed smile in return. “How was that?” He asked.
“Do I even need to answer?” You laughed, still breathing heavily. “That was amazing.”
“That’s what I was going for. And I’m not done yet—if you aren’t,” he suggested wryly. You looked down to eye the increasingly obvious bulge in his slacks, and immediately got butterflies. He had just eaten you out, of course, but the promise of his cock awakened something else in you, something almost stronger, and something more hungry.
“I’m not done either,” you decided.
He stood up, and you watched in silence and anticipation as he skillfully unbuckled his belt, and pulled his pants and boxers down to his midthigh. His cock sprung out, thick and red, and you were almost embarrassed when you felt yourself salivating at the sight.
You wanted it. And you wanted it inside you, more than anything. Nothing had ever looked more appetizing.
He took it in his hand and stroked it a few times, before looking at you expectantly. You smiled up at him, and he stepped forward in response, sliding the wet tip across your lips. He cradled the back of your head with his free hand, and you opened your mouth for him.
He pushed in slowly, and sighed when you closed your lips around him. “Good . . .”
The taste of his cock felt so right , so comforting, and like nothing else you had tasted before. It was just him; Satan’s pure essence. You moaned at just the thought, sending vibrations through him, and causing him to gasp reflexively. “You like it, don’t you?”
You looked up at him through your eyelashes in affirmation, gauging his reaction. His eyes were shut and his lips were slightly parted, and a new wave of pleasure washed over you seeing how affected he was by your actions. He liked it just as much as you did, and most likely more.
“Good, good, girl . . .” He muttered, both hands now relaxed and softly stroking your hair. You tongued around the head, applying more pressure as you went, losing yourself as you pleased him. His quiet reassurance was all you needed, and you wanted nothing more than to continue being a good girl for him. Just as you were going to take him deeper, he pulled out suddenly, slipping out of your mouth with a pop.
You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, trying not to frown. “What is it?” Sure your experience was—limited—but you didn’t think you were that bad at blowjobs.
He leaned down over you to plant a kiss on your forehead, reassuring you. “I want to cum in your cunt, not your mouth.”
Your jaw dropped at his vulgarity, and the butterflies in your stomach reawakened. Though now, rather than lightly fluttering, they were violently ramming against your internal organs—probably trying to kill you.
Without saying a word, you flopped back onto the bed, hurriedly unbuttoning the vest of your uniform and ripping the rest of your top off in one fell swoop. His words were uncharacteristically crass, and oh did you want to hear more. If his voice could get you to this point, what was his cock capable of?
Satan chuckled deeply, witnessing your enthusiasm. He climbed over you almost like a prowling tiger, ready to devour his next meal. You kept your eyes on him as he kissed you hard, pushing your legs apart with his knee.
His tongue was wet, and hot, and you melted into the mess he was creating between your mouths. You allowed him to take complete control, and it was like his movements got dirtier with every passing second. His tongue was everywhere; the insides of your cheeks, the roof of your mouth, your gums, your molars. It was intoxicating, and you could practically feel your pussy slicking as he licked and swallowed and moaned into you. He pulled away slowly, a thick string of saliva connecting you together. He licked his lips, an almost ferocious grin blooming on his face.
“You taste amazing . . . up here, and down there,” he said the last few words quietly, looking down the length of your body. He reached one of his hands down to grab his cock, and then shifted to look back to you. “I’m gonna fuck you, okay?”
You nodded silently, and wrapped your arms carefully around his neck. Finally—you would get to experience all of him. He maintained eye contact as he began to push into you, and your breath hitched as he filled you inch by inch.
“Breathe, breathe,” he comforted, continuing, and you breathed; you obeyed. He bottomed out with a low groan, and you sighed to match him in pure relief when you felt his balls against your ass. He was inside, all the way. Fully and completely.
You gently pulled him back down for another kiss. He began slowly thrusting as your tongues intertwined once again, and you couldn’t help but moan into his mouth. The drag of his cock against your walls was addicting, and you swore you could feel every vein and twitch pulsing within you. You couldn’t even fully comprehend what it was you wanted. Did you want him to push into you as far as possible, and hold it? Or did you want him to thrust hard, rough, and deep until you screamed?
You figured you’d have the time of your life either way.
You broke the kiss. “Satan . . .”
“What is it, sweet girl?” He quietly panted, hot breath rhythmically fanning your cheek. He lightly bit down on your shoulder, and you whimpered.
“I like it so much,” you nuzzled your face into his shoulder. “I like you so much.”
He huffed out a breathless laugh, and your body jolted when he thrusted particularly hard. You let out an unexpected shriek of pleasure and surprise in response, which Satan seemed to love.
“I know you like it. And I love that you do. You’re pretty slutty, aren’t you?” His tone was low and seductive, and you couldn’t get enough. You whined and nodded into his shoulder, your pussy clenching at his accusation.
“Use your words,” he chided under his breath. The rumble of his voice sent a rush of heat through your core, and you lifted your head just slightly.
“I’m a pretty, slut,” you moaned. “For . . . you, I am!”
“That’s right.” He groaned, and shifted to put more weight on his left knee and free his right hand. It traveled between your bodies, and you involuntarily bucked your hips into his touch. His weight held you in place, coercing you into succumbing to pleasure.
You unwrapped your shaking arms from around his neck to glide down his back. Desperately searching for a hold, your fingers clumsily clenched and tangled in the fabric of his shirt. Something about him being practically fully dressed while you lay a naked wreck beneath him made you feel almost powerless—but in a safe, sexy way. He was the one in control, and that allowed you to relax, to submit, to simply feel.
Your breath caught in your throat as he angled his hips in just the right way to brush against the perfect spot inside you that made you see white. Your mouth fell open, and your lips trembled as he hit it over, and over, and over again. You couldn’t make a sound as he fucked you, and tears began to well larger in your eyes with every thrust.
“O-h, wow, right there, wait Satan I . . .” you found yourself unable to finish your sentence, instead ending your ramblings with a moan.
Briefly, he slowed, just long enough for you to gasp for air. Hot tears finally breached the surface, and rolled down your cheeks in twin tracks of salt and emotion. Your back arched so high you wondered if it would break, and Satan took the opportunity to move his hand from your clit to support you from the base of your spine.
He rocked into you, slowly grinding, and you savored the almost certainly temporary change of pace. It was his turn to press his face into your shoulder, and you gratefully welcomed him. You held the back of his head with one hand, running your fingers through his soft blond hair, while your other hand remained latched onto his back. You sighed in satisfaction as he kissed your skin, almost desperately tonguing the spot where your collarbone met your shoulder. “You’re making me feel so good,” you whined, and you could practically sense a smile forming against you.
His tonguing morphed into sucking, and you did your best to relax as he decorated you with hickeys. You inhaled sharply when he released you, focusing on the dull, welcome pain of your new bruise. It wasn’t even the pain you really liked, but the fact that Satan was inflicting it on you. And he liked it.
He dragged himself back from you to switch positions, sitting up on his haunches and grabbing your waist with both of his hands to bring you closer to him. The lower half of your body was almost entirely lifted from the bed’s surface, and you felt almost like a crescent moon the way you were arched. Gently, he rocked into you, reinstating the lost rhythm. He looked into your eyes, and you found yourself lost in deep turquoise. “You ready, baby?”
You didn’t answer verbally, just nodded in affirmation with parted lips. Abruptly, he switched tempos to pound into you once again. The wet, rough pull of his cock on your walls was delicious, and you moaned with furrowed brows. His grip on your waist was so tight you could feel the bruises from his fingertips blooming beneath your skin. His strength alone was overwhelming, and you loved it.
He wasn’t going to let up, now. Easily, he relocated your G-spot, and you cried sharply as he continuously rammed into it. “F-Fuck!”
You weren’t sure that it was possible to cum from penetration alone, but Satan was about to pull it off.
You shut your eyes, allowing yourself to become fully and completely immersed in the array of sensations he was providing you. The full-body shocks your cunt was sending up your body, the dull pain of his hands squeezing your waist, the heat of his cock inside you, the barely repressed heavy panting of Satan as he roughly fucked you—
Stars.
You let out a violent, quivering sob as you came, your entire body wracked with what could only be described as pure unbridled ecstasy. Satan loosened his grip and held you gently as you spasmed, allowing you to freely ride out your pleasure. In the background of your racing mind, you felt his cock lurch inside of you, a wave of heat coursing up your walls. You subconsciously wrapped your trembling legs around him, needing him closer. Needing him and his cum as deep as possible. You gyrated your hips slightly, the final aftershocks of your orgasm beginning to subside. Even if you had stopped cumming, the feeling of his semen flowing through your body was amazing in itself. And, watching his face contort in an equally blissed out expression.
At some point you regained the ability to speak, but it wasn’t like you had anything intelligent to say.
“Oh, my god , Satan,” you whined. You had never felt so good. You had never felt so loved, and so . . . free. The familiar burn of tears returned, and you nestled your head into Satan’s neck, breathing him in, letting yourself continue to feel.
“You’ve been so perfect for me, sweet girl,” he murmured. You could feel the vibrations of his voice in his throat, and it made you feel even closer to him—like his very essence was radiating deep into your skin. The humid heat of sex had dwindled to a comforting warmth between the two of you, and you reveled in it.
You laid together for a few more moments before he began slowly pulling away. You sighed in contentment when his cock slipped out of you, though you honestly missed the feeling. You turned onto your side, and steadily watched the rise and fall of Satan’s chest.
“Are you some kind of sex god?” You panted.
He chuckled. “Maybe. Think I could pull off being an incubus?”
You propped yourself up on one elbow, and looked at him incredulously.
“You . . . yes. I wouldn’t be opposed to getting fucked by you like your life depends on it.”
“That was my first time, you know.” He sounded embarrassed, and you couldn’t believe that.
You didn’t think you could look more shocked.
“Now you’re just messing with me.” You laid back down, snuggling into his side with your head resting on his chest.
“I’m not. But I did my fair share of book research—maybe I’m just naturally talented.”
“Want to do some more field research? To, uh, supplement your learning?”
“This is a weird metaphor. But I’m ready to go again, if you are.”
“I am, you incubus."