Disclaimer: I do not have any rights of ownership for the characters used except the OC's. All the credit goes to the authors. Only the plot belongs to me.
Chapter 4
The quiet, sunny day felt like a lie. It draped itself over Kuoh Town like a shroud that promised peace but delivered only dread. The Fallen, once arrogant peacocks strutting through the night, had vanished. Scurried back into whatever shadowed nests they called home, all because of him. All because of the cold, bovine fury they had witnessed. For Issei Hyoudou, the silence wasn't a reprieve; it was the held breath before a scream.
He walked through the park, a ghost in his own skin, the phantom weight of a holy spear still trying to punch through his gut. The images from the monitor were seared onto the backs of his eyelids: the raw, carnal dominance of the one they called Taurus. It was a power so absolute it defied the neat categories of 'devil' or 'angel'. It was just… force. And Issei, with his pathetic Boosted Gear that felt more like a toy than a weapon, had felt the barest flick of that force and nearly ceased to exist.
The near-death encounter that followed when another fallen decided to hunt him down, that had done nothing but push him to face his reality. He was weak. Pathethic.
A soft gasp broke his reverie. He'd nearly walked straight into a young woman kneeling by a park bench, tending to a small boy with a scraped knee. She had hair the color of spun gold and eyes of the purest, kindest green he had ever seen. A simple blue dress marked her as a nun.
"Oh, forgive me," she said, her Japanese accented but gentle. "Are you alright?"
"Y-yeah, my fault," Issei stammered, his cheeks flushing. "I was… spaced out."
She offered a smile that was like a ray of sunlight in his gloomy world. "It happens. There now," she whispered to the little boy, placing a small bandage on his knee. A faint, warm green light pulsed from her hands, and the boy's sniffles instantly ceased, his eyes wide with wonder as the pain vanished. "All better."
The boy giggled and ran off to his mother, who bowed her head in thanks. The nun rose, dusting off her dress. "My name is Asia Argento. It's a pleasure to meet you."
"Issei Hyoudou." The name felt foreign on his tongue. He was just a collection of fear and inadequacy wearing an Issei suit. But for a moment, talking to her, he felt a flicker of the old him. The loudmouthed, perverted, but fundamentally normal high school kid. It was a warmth that felt dangerously good. They spoke for a few minutes, about nothing and everything, and for that brief span, the shroud over the town seemed to lift.
That warmth was extinguished the moment he returned to the Occult Research Club building. Rias was waiting, her expression as severe as he'd ever seen it.
"I know you met a girl in the park, Issei," she said, her voice devoid of its usual teasing warmth. It was the voice of a King, cold and pragmatic. "A nun. Asia Argento."
"How did you—?"
"That doesn't matter," she cut him off, her crimson hair shifting like a silken curtain as she stepped closer. "What matters is that you will stay away from her. The Church and Devils are in a cold war, at best. At worst, we are mortal enemies. That girl, with her Twilight Healing, is a heretic to her own people, but she is still a tool of the Church. And with the Fallen in hiding, every faction is on edge. We don't know what the Fallen are upto, nor can we take the Church out of the equation when it comes to a fight against us Devils. An association with a stray nun, no matter how innocent she seems, is a complication we cannot afford. Do you understand me?"
Her words were like stones dropped into the fragile peace he'd found. "But she's… she's just a nice girl, Buchou. She's all alone."
"Many people are alone, Issei," Rias said, her violet eyes softened. "It doesn't make them our responsibility. Your priority is to this peerage. To me. Do not make me repeat myself."
The command was absolute. The King had spoken. Issei could only nod, the memory of Asia's gentle smile already tainted by the bitter taste of politics and power he could barely comprehend. The quiet returned, heavier than before.
***
The ambush was a shrieking, manic explosion of light and lunacy. One moment, Issei and Koneko were waiting inside the house of their contracted client, the next a deranged scream and mad cackling surrounded them.
"Yahoo! Found you, devil scuuuum!"
Freed Sellzen was a whirlwind of white robes and silver blades, his face contorted with ecstatic madness. Swords of light materialized in his hands, lashing out with vicious speed. Issei barely managed to summon his Boosted Gear, the gauntlet feeling like a dead weight on his arm as he parried a strike that would have taken his head off. The force of it sent a jarring shock up to his shoulder.
"Come on, little devil boy! Let's dance! Let me purify your filthy soul! Just like the heretic loser who called for you!" Freed cackled, his movements erratic and unpredictable, as he confirmed the murder of their client.
Koneko moved like a blur, her small fists landing with the impact of cannonballs. But Freed was preternaturally fast, dodging and weaving, his light-sword deflecting her blows with showers of sparks. "Ooh, a little kitty-cat! I love tearing the wings off little birdies and the tails off little kitties!"
They were hopelessly outmatched. Issei was too slow, too weak. His power was a distant promise, a slow-building engine that was useless in an assault against a seasoned enemy. Koneko had the strength, but Freed's holy weapons kept her at bay, searing her devil flesh with every near miss. Fear, cold and absolute, coiled in Issei's stomach. This was it. This was how he died again. He saw an opening—or thought he did—and lunged, putting all his weight behind a punch.
Freed sidestepped with contemptuous ease, bringing the flat of his blade down across Issei's back. The impact was a white-hot agony that sent him sprawling into the dirt, his vision swimming.
"Issei-senpai!" Koneko cried, her voice tight with strain as she dodged another frenzied slash.
"Issei-san?!" a familiar voice cried out, making Issei tilt his head in shock as he looked at the voice that belonged to the girl whose smile had brightened up his entire day.
From the edge of the hallway, a terrified whimper echoed.
Asia.
What was she doing here?
Freed's insane grin widened as he saw her.
"Well, well, well! If it isn't the little heretic witch, Asia Argento! The Fallen Angels must be getting sloppy if you are colluding with these heretic devil scum. After I'm done with these two, I'll have some REAL fun purifying you!"
He raised his light-sword for a final, killing blow on the downed Issei. Terror locked Issei's limbs. He could only watch the holy light descend, a final, blinding punctuation to his short, pathetic life.
The world did not end in light. It ended in a sound. A low, guttural roar that was less animal and more tectonic plate grinding against bone.
A shadow fell over Freed. He froze, the manic glee on his face wiped away and replaced with a confusion that quickly morphed into primal fear. Taurus stood behind him, having appeared from nowhere, a mountain of muscle and silent rage. He wasn't radiating demonic energy or holy power. He was simply… there. A physical absolute. An immovable object that had just met a deeply resistible force.
"Who the fuck are—" Freed started to shriek.
Taurus's hand, a slab of muscle and rough like calloused leather, shot out and clamped around Freed's face. The exorcist's words were crushed into a wet, gurgling sound. With a single, fluid motion, Taurus lifted the struggling man off his feet. Freed's legs kicked uselessly, his light-sword flickering and dying as the hand squeezing his skull cut off every thought but pure, undiluted terror.
"You are loud," Taurus growled, his voice a low vibration that seemed to shake the very ground. "And you are in my way."
He didn't punch. He didn't blast. He simply slammed Freed out the door. The impact was sickening, a wet crunch of earth and bone. Freed's body convulsed. Taurus hauled him up again, only to pivot and hurl him through a thicket of trees in the backyard connecting to the local park. Wood splintered, branches snapped, and the sound of the exorcist's body crashing through was followed by a choked, agonized scream that faded into the distance. He hadn't just been defeated. He'd been discarded. Thrown away like trash.
The silence that followed was more profound than any before it. Taurus turned, his dark eyes sweeping over the scene. They passed over Issei without interest, lingered on Koneko for a while as he assessed her injuries, and then settled on the terrified, trembling form of Asia Argento. He walked toward her, each step a heavy, deliberate thud on the packed earth. She flinched, curling into herself, expecting a similar end to the madman who had just been so brutally dispatched.
He stopped before her, his massive frame blocking out the last of the dying light. He knelt, an act that seemed incongruous for such a being, and simply extended a hand. It was an offer, not a command.
After a long, trembling moment, Asia reached out and took it, her fingers wrapping around his much thicker ones. He gently pulled her to her feet.
"You are safe now," he rumbled, the words not a comfort, but a statement of fact. And in that moment, under the gaze of this terrifying, inhuman force, she was.
***
The Hyoudou residence was a pressure cooker. The air was thick with the ozone tang of a recent battle and the heavier, more complex miasma of unspoken emotions. Issei sat slumped on the sofa, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, still shivering despite the warmth of the house. The phantom pain in his back was a constant reminder of how close he'd come, how utterly useless he had been. He hadn't saved anyone. He had just been a better victim than Freed. He was alive because a monster had decided to swat a fly that was annoying it.
Rias and the others had arrived moments after Taurus had, their faces a mixture of shock and relief. Now, Rias tried to maintain an aura of calm authority, questioning a still-shaken Asia about the Fallen Angels who had been sheltering her, but her eyes kept darting toward the quiet giant in the corner of the room. Taurus stood by the window, staring out into the night, a monolith of contained violence. He hadn't said another word since they'd returned.
Koneko sat beside Issei, munching on a bag of chips with a stoicism that was only slightly marred by the slight tremor in her hands. Kiba was quiet, his usual charming smile absent, replaced by a thoughtful, wary expression.
But Akeno… Akeno was different.
She was practically vibrating. A feverish heat seemed to roll off her in waves. While everyone else saw the brutal, terrifying spectacle of Freed's dismissal, she had seen something else entirely. She had watched the raw, uncompromising application of force, the absolute dominance of one being over another, and it had resonated with a dark, primal chord deep within her soul. Her cheeks were flushed, a delicate pink that had nothing to do with the evening chill. Her breath was just a little too shallow, her lips slightly parted. Every time her gaze drifted to Taurus, her pupils would dilate, a flicker of something hot and hungry in their violet depths. The violence hadn't scared her. It had been the most profound aphrodisiac she had ever experienced.
Later, as the house settled into a fragile attempt at sleep, Akeno slipped from her room. The night was heavy, the air still and expectant. She stood under the spray of her own shower for a long time, letting the hot water sluice over her skin, but it did nothing to quell the fire coiling low in her belly. It had been lit the moment she saw Taurus wrap his hand around that exorcist's face, and it had only grown hotter since.
She stepped out, a knowing, wicked smile playing on her lips. She didn't bother with a towel. Instead, she reached into her closet and pulled out a robe of the finest, deepest white silk. It was a beautiful, elegant garment. And it would become utterly indecent in a moment. She ran the faucet, gathering handfuls of cool water and splashing them over the robe, dampening the fabric until it clung to her every curve, rendering the silk nearly transparent. Her full breasts, tipped with hard, pink nipples, were starkly visible, as was the dark shadow of her mound.
This was her game. She was the seductive sadist, the one who teased and tormented, who brought men to the brink and held them there, dangling on her whim. She craved power, but she enjoyed the play of it more. Tonight, she would play with the most dangerous fire she had ever encountered. She wanted to dance on the edge of that volcano, to feel its heat, to provoke the beast and see if she could tame him.
Her bare feet made no sound on the wooden floors as she padded down the hallway to his room. The door was slightly ajar. With a final, deep breath that was equal parts thrill and anticipation, she pushed it open and slipped inside.
He was standing by the window, just as he had been hours ago, a silhouette against the moon-drenched glass. He didn't turn. He didn't have to.
"I can smell you, Akeno," he rumbled, his voice a low growl that vibrated through the floorboards. "You reek of arousal. What do you want?"
Akeno's smile widened. The game was afoot. "Ara, ara… such a cold greeting. I was just feeling a little warm, and thought you might enjoy the view."
She let the robe slip open slightly, a deliberate, calculated move to showcase the swell of a wet, silk-sheathed breast. She took a step forward, her hips swaying in a rhythm designed to captivate, to entice. "Perhaps you're feeling… tense… after tonight's excitement. I am known to be very good at helping men relax."
She expected a reaction. A glance, a smirk, perhaps even a growl of appreciation. She expected the opening moves of a familiar dance, one where she led, tantalizing and teasing, holding all the cards.
She was wrong.
In the space between one heartbeat and the next, he moved. He wasn't just fast; he was instantaneous. One moment he was by the window, the next he was in front of her, his shadow swallowing her whole. His hand shot out, fingers tangling brutally in her long, black hair, yanking her head back with a force that made her gasp, a sharp, involuntary sound that was half pain, half sheer, electrifying shock.
The sudden force stole the air from her lungs, replacing it with a heady mix of fear and arousal that was so potent it made her vision swim. Her game, her control, her entire reality shattered in a single, violent motion. He dragged her down, forcing her to her knees on the hard wooden floor. The impact sent a jolt up her spine. Her silk robe pooled around her, useless and forgotten.
"You came into my room, stinking of heat, presenting yourself like a bitch on display," he growled, his voice a low timbre that vibrated through her very bones. He leaned down, his face close to hers, his breath hot against her ear. "You wanted to play a game. Your game is over. My rules begin now."
His other hand moved, not to her breasts or her hips, but to the front of his pants. The sound of his loincloth being undone was deafening in the silent room. His length sprang free, thick and pulsing with a life of its own, heavy and impossibly large in the dim moonlight.
"Open your mouth."
It wasn't a request. It was a law of nature. The shock was still ricocheting through her, a delicious, terrifying current that short-circuited every seductive instinct she possessed. This was a subjugation. And kami, it was everything she hadn't known she desperately craved. Her lips parted on a trembling breath, her eyes wide, fixed on the thick, veined shaft before her. The musky scent of him filled her head, an intoxicating perfume of pure male dominance.
He didn't wait for a more formal invitation. He gripped the back of her head again, his fingers tightening in her hair, and guided her forward. The blunt, wet tip of his cock pressed against her lips, nudging them apart. He pushed, slowly, deliberately, forcing his way into her mouth. Her throat protested, her gag reflex kicking in as he filled her, stretching her jaw, pushing deeper than she thought possible. A tear of overwhelmed ecstasy leaked from the corner of her eye.
"That's it," he grunted, his voice tight with controlled lust. "Take it. All of it. Worship it."
He began to move, fucking her mouth with a steady, punishing rhythm. His hips pumped, driving his cock in and out, slicking it with her saliva. The sounds were obscene, wet and guttural. Her hands, which had been frozen at her sides, now scrabbled forward, gripping his powerful thighs for balance. This was utter defilement. Her mind went blank, all thought erased and replaced by the primal, overwhelming reality of his cock invading her, dominating her, claiming her.
He pulled out abruptly, leaving her gasping, a string of saliva connecting her lips to his glistening tip. "You wanted to tease the beast. Now you will service it." He pushed her head down, pressing her cheek against the hard plane of his stomach. "Use your tits."
The command was absolute. Akeno, dazed and drunk on submission, looked down at her own chest. The wet silk clung to her, highlighting the fullness of her breasts. With trembling fingers, she pushed the robe aside, freeing them. They felt heavy, aching. He grabbed them himself, his large hands rough as he squeezed, kneading her flesh until she moaned.
"Good," he grunted, positioning his shaft between the valley of her breasts. "Now work."
He thrust his hips forward, his cock sliding between the slick, soft mounds of her flesh. The sensation was incredible, a raw friction that sent lightning bolts of pleasure straight to her core. She began to pump her chest, moving in rhythm with his thrusts, her head spinning. He held her head in place with one hand, forcing her to watch as his thick cock pistoned between her breasts, splashing his pre-cum onto her skin, matting the delicate silk.
"What a slut," he snarled, the insult a brand of ownership that made her cunt clench violently. "You love this, don't you? Being used like a piece of meat."
"Yes," she whimpered, the admission torn from her soul. "Oh, yes… please…"
His pace quickened, his thrusts becoming harder, more frantic. He was close. The air crackled with the imminent explosion. He grabbed her jaw, forcing her to look up at him, to see the raw lust contorting his face.
"My balls are full, Akeno," he growled, his voice thick and strained. "Full of hot, thick seed for a filthy bitch like you. And you're going to take every last drop."
He pulled his cock from between her breasts, the head slick and red. Before she could even process the command, he shoved it back into her mouth, ramming it deep into her throat, choking off her cry of surprise. His hips slammed against her face, a brutal, final punctuation. A deep, guttural groan tore from his chest as he flooded her. Hot, copious ropes of his seed pumped into the back of her throat, thick and potent. She gagged, her eyes watering, but his hand on the back of her head was an iron clamp, ensuring she swallowed every single pulse of his release. He kept pumping even after he was finished, milking the last dregs from his empty sac.
When he finally pulled out, she collapsed forward, coughing and sputtering, her chin and chest glistening with his seed and her own saliva. She was a wreck. A debauched, used thing kneeling on the floor. And she had never felt more complete.
He looked down at her, his expression unreadable in the dim light. He hadn't just fucked her mouth and her tits. He had fucked her pride, her arrogance, her entire sense of self. He had taken her game and shattered it, replacing it with his brutal reality.
Akeno looked up at him, her violet eyes swimming with tears of pure, unadulterated bliss, a trail of his cum still clinging to her lips. She had willingly stepped into the bull's pen, and he had shown her exactly where she belonged. On her knees, used, and utterly, ecstatically his.
Author's Notes
Chapter 4 is up. Like and comment. Do let me know your thoughts on the story.
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