Devil's Worship [ManxMan]

Chapter Twenty-Seven

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"I longed to be in his world. Now I'm here, I long to be back in mine. The filter of longing and love over my eyes disappeared in an instant" - Unknown

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TOBIAS • POV

It was so hot. The heat was blistering, almost as though the mattress had turned into a bed of hot coals. I squirmed, sweat trickling from my forehead and all over my body, leaking into crevices and folds of skin. My hair was damp, matted against my forehead and down my back. Yet the heat wasn't exactly uncomfortable... it was bearable, desired even. I couldn't accurately explain the way it felt. The best I could describe it was like lying in a nest of fire, hot, but safe. Sweaty, but perfectly content.

There was a throbbing sensation across my left pectoral muscle and I knew the scar etched there was the source of the pulse. The devil's mark was active and alive, perhaps because he was near, closebye and lurking. I hadn't dared open my eyes just yet. The more awake I became, the more my consciousness registered my surroundings, other than the blistering heat. Mummy was missing, so was aunt Mila, I couldn't smell them anymore or feel their soft, supple flesh pressed against me. There was something tight wrapped multiple times around my upper thigh, close to my groin.

I reached down, fingers sliding against my hip, eventually meeting the place where I'd been tied. I brushed my fingers over the thick coil, feeling soft scales beneath my fingertips. I knew what it was immediately, even before it began to move, slithering like a snake, away from my touch, spiraling back down my thigh and then eventually falling away.

My brain made a mental note. Creed liked touching me with his tail, but that didn't necessarily mean I, myself, was allowed to touch it in return.

Finally, I opened my eyes, blinking rapidly in the low light. It was as though I'd never gone to sleep. The room was dark, still cast in a fiery orange glow from the stained glass window above the bed. There was no distinction between night and day, no rising of a sun or any external light. Curiously, I lifted up onto my elbows, only to gasp when they were grabbed by large, rough hands and I was dragged up the mattress I'd been lying on.

Said mattress was not a bed of hot coals, but the devil's large, hard body. The heat was pulsing off him in sweltering waves. I'd been sleeping on top of him, my head on his chest, his skin burning sweat between mine. My face turned red, my eyes wide as I was brought up to meet his piercing gaze. His eyes were open, those pools of matte black, making it hard to distinguish where he was looking, but I assumed his camouflaged pupils were trained on me.

His dark brown skin was devoid of tattoos on his face, the intricate art paused along the rise of his thick neck, and I was glad. It allowed me to see his handsome face without any obstruction or distraction. Large, black horns curled outwards from his temples, imitating that of a goat's. The magnificent horns were carved intricately with scripture I couldn't decipher, but was only noticing for the very first time.