Chapter Two: Wedding Night

A tremor of disbelief, laced with a raw, dizzying exhilaration, pulsed through Benzosia. I did it. The echo of the infernal celebration faded, leaving a suffocating silence punctuated only by the frantic drumbeat of her heart. Asmodeus’s hand, a furnace against her clammy skin, enveloped hers. His grip, a subtle assertion of power, anchored her amidst the swirling chaos of her emotions.

He led her away, the cacophony of laughter and music receding into a distant, ominous hum. The air, thick with incense and the metallic tang of blood, shifted to his signature scent—ozone and stardust, a heady blend that stole her breath. She had followed him to Hell, a decision once unthinkable, now inevitable. In this moment, with his hand clasped firmly in hers, she knew, with a chilling clarity, that she would follow him anywhere, even into the deepest abyss.

The grandeur of the infernal palace—towering columns adorned with crimson jewels, polished gold floors reflecting torchlight in hypnotic swirls—blurred into insignificance. Her world narrowed, focusing solely on the fallen angel at her side. The sharp angles of his jaw, the elegant curve of his cheekbones, the fathomless depths of his sapphire eyes—each detail was a masterpiece of divine artistry. Anticipation, a dark, intoxicating thrill, shivered down her spine. It wasn’t just his beauty, but the promise in his gaze, the unspoken secrets that danced in those midnight depths.

This isn’t surrender, she told herself. It’s a grand adventure, a daring leap into the unknown. A chance to forge their own destiny, free from Heaven’s rigid constraints. A flicker of doubt, a whisper of fear, tried to intrude, but she buried it beneath the overwhelming tide of her love. She was Benzosia, a celestial being of light, and she was choosing him, choosing this, choosing their shared future, whatever darkness it held. She tightened her grip on his hand, a silent vow, a promise whispered not just to him, but to herself. This is it. There’s no turning back. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Did you bring any belongings?” Asmodeus’s voice, a low, resonant rumble, snapped her back to the present. His heated presence was a palpable thing at her side, a warmth that both comforted and unsettled her.

Had she been staring? Benzosia’s cheeks flushed faintly as she took him in anew. He towered over her, an elegant figure sculpted from shadow and starlight. His raven-black hair, pulled back with effortless grace, accentuated the clean lines of his face, the strong jaw, the high cheekbones. But it was his eyes that truly captivated her—darker than any celestial she’d ever known, shading into a fathomless midnight. They held secrets, untold depths and heated promises she yearned to explore, to unravel.

“Benzosia?”

“Hmm?” She blinked, her thoughts scattering like startled birds. Her gaze darted up to meet his, and she caught the subtle curve of his lips, a patient amusement playing at the corners. A faint blush warmed her cheeks.

“Oh—I don’t have any possessions,” she confessed, her voice betraying a hint of awkwardness. She fiddled with a loose thread on her sleeve, avoiding his gaze. “The Triad has grown… stringent in their teachings, lately. Personal possessions have been deemed a potential gateway to sin, a breeding ground for greed and jealousy amongst the… the pure.” She stumbled over the last word, a hint of bitterness creeping into her tone. The ‘pure.’ As if I wasn’t pure, simply because I chose to love him.

“No matter,” Asmodeus murmured, his voice a silken caress that shivered across her skin. His eyes, those fathomless sapphires, held a glint of allure and danger. “I’ll give you everything you need,” he promised, a slow, dazzling smile promising untold pleasures and hidden consequences. “Starting with a bed.”

The abrupt shift made Benzosia’s breath catch. Her heart pounded, a frantic rhythm echoing something deeper within her.

“A bed?” she asked, her voice a nervous whisper. His gaze held hers with an intensity that made her breath hitch, a possessiveness that sent a thrill through her veins.

“Yes,” Asmodeus whispered, his voice husky. He stepped closer, his heat both warming and unsettling. “A bed. Where we can explore… all that we’ve been denied.” His fingers brushed hers, a fleeting touch with an undercurrent of power, a reminder of his control.

“Denied?” Benzosia echoed, her voice barely audible. It wasn’t just a question, but an acknowledgment—a recognition of the unspoken desires that had simmered beneath the surface of their celestial lives, forbidden pleasures now within reach. A faint blush warmed her cheeks, a mixture of anticipation and trepidation swirling within her.

“By their rules,” Asmodeus clarified, his eyes darkening, the sapphire depths now holding a glint of something possessive, almost dangerous. “Down here,” he continued, his voice dropping to a low, husky murmur that sent shivers down Benzosia’s spine, “I make the rules.” His fingers intertwined with hers, the grip firm, almost possessive. “And one of my rules,” he added, his gaze unwavering, “is that you sleep in my bed.”

The statement hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. It wasn’t just an invitation; it was a declaration, a subtle assertion of his newfound authority, his absolute control in this infernal realm. Benzosia’s heart quickened its pace, a frantic drumbeat against her ribs. 

“Why?” Was this a request, or an order disguised as one?

“Because you’re my Queen Consort,” he corrected gently, his voice laced with a playful note that sent another shiver down her spine. A glint, bright and mischievous, sparked in his eyes, as if he enjoyed her confusion, her uncertainty making him feel more powerful. “And the queen’s place,” he finished, his gaze holding hers with an intensity that made her breath catch, “is in the king’s bed.”

The words were spoken with a lightness, almost a teasing air, but Benzosia sensed a deeper current beneath the surface. It wasn’t just about shared intimacy or conjugal rights; it was about ownership, about claiming her as his, body and soul, in this new, dangerous world they now inhabited. A thrill, both exhilarating and unsettling, coursed through her veins. She had followed him to Hell, forsaken her celestial home, and now, in this moment, she was truly his, bound to him by a love that was both divine and deeply, irrevocably infernal.

She trailed behind him, through the labyrinthine palace. Each echoing footstep amplified the frantic beat of her heart. The walls, lined with obsidian mirrors, cast their reflections back at them—a dizzying kaleidoscope of Benzosia and Asmodeus, multiplying, twisting, and distorting with every step. The air, thick with the scent of something ancient and metallic, hummed with a low, almost imperceptible vibration that resonated deep within her bones.

Suddenly, without warning, he pulled her toward one of the mirrors. Its surface, cold and seemingly impenetrable, yielded with an unexpected fluidity as she was drawn through, falling into a world that shimmered and shifted like a heat haze. For a disorienting moment, she lost all sense of reality. Then, Asmodeus’s heat enveloped her, a grounding presence in the swirling chaos. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her close, and his lips claimed hers with a fiery intensity that stole her breath and sent a jolt of pure sensation through her. It wasn’t a gentle kiss, but a possessive one, a claim that left her head spinning and her senses reeling.

His fingers, nimble and sure, danced across the tiny buttons of her gown, each touch a spark against her skin. It wasn't just the physical contact, but the way his gaze lingered, hot and possessive, that sent shivers down Benzosia's spine. A silent symphony of seduction, she thought, a phrase that both thrilled and unnerved her. Her body felt strangely disconnected, as if it were acting on its own accord, responding to his touch with a heat that bloomed in her core and spread outward like wildfire.

"Wait." Her hands flew up, attempting to grasp the fabric of her gown, a feeble attempt to regain control. "What are you doing to me?" The question was barely a whisper, tinged with a nervous flutter that she couldn't quite suppress.

"Making you my queen." His eyes, already dark, seemed to deepen, becoming almost black as he met her gaze. There was a possessiveness there, a raw intensity that made her breath catch in her throat. He swatted her hands aside with a playful impatience, resuming his unbuttoning with a deliberate slowness that heightened the tension.

Her gown slid down the front, Asmodeus's fingers tracing the curve of her collarbone as he impatiently helped it along. He pulled the sleeves off her arms, his touch lingering, burning, before his gaze dropped lower. She felt the heat of his gaze on her bare skin, and a strange mixture of vulnerability and exhilaration washed over her. He licked his lips, his eyes darkening further as he took in her near-nudity. She felt exposed, every bit as bare as some of the demons she'd witnessed in the hall, but there was also a thrill in that exposure, a sense of daring and defiance.

"What do you mean by undressing me?" she asked, her voice a little steadier this time. She moved to cover her breasts, but he was faster, his hands reaching out to grasp her wrists. He held her arms out at her sides, his grip firm yet gentle, forcing her to stand before him, fully revealed. His gaze lingered, taking in every inch of her, and she felt a blush warm her cheeks.

He smiled softly, a slow, knowing curve of his lips, raising his brows in a silent question. "I intend to make love to you."

"Oh." She leaned into his touch as he cupped her face, his palms warm against her cheeks, grounding her in the moment. His touch was both tender and possessive, a silent claiming that made her heart race.

Is this really happening?

Their eyes met in a moment of intense intimacy, his gaze filled with a tenderness that made her heart flutter, but also with a raw desire that sent a different kind of heat through her veins. Slowly, he lowered his head, his lips brushing against hers with a feather-light touch that sent shivers down her spine. It was a teasing caress, a prelude to something more, and she found herself leaning into it, wanting more. Suddenly, her entire body was ablaze with sensation, then chilled to the bone, a dizzying dance between heat and cold. Her heart pounded against her ribs as she inhaled his intoxicating scent, his warmth enveloping her, the delicate caress of his lips sending shivers down her spine, each touch a spark igniting a fire within her.

He pulled back, just slightly, his breath ghosting over her lips. "Open for me." The words were a husky whisper, a command disguised as a request, and she felt a strange mixture of nerves and excitement coil in her stomach.

"Wh..what?" The question tumbled out before she could stop it, her brow furrowing as she tried to understand his meaning. His thumb gently tugged her bottom lip down, opening her mouth to him, and when his lips met hers again, she understood. His mouth was magical, his tongue lapping inside of her lips, igniting sparks of sensation that danced across her skin. A soft moan escaped her throat, a sound she barely recognized as her own. Yes, this is love, there are no doubts remaining. How could there be? He makes me feel…alive.

"Are you going to kiss me back?"

Asmodeus grinned down at her, his lips red and glistening. A playful smirk danced at the corners, a challenge she found both disarming and incredibly alluring. Had he just asked her a question? The thought flickered through her mind, a brief moment of surprise before the heat of his gaze washed over her.

"Kiss? …back?" she echoed, the words a breathy whisper, her voice betraying a nervousness she couldn't quite suppress.

"I'm going to need your participation, my sweet," he purred, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her. He stepped back, shrugging off his shirt with an effortless grace that made her mouth go dry. Gods, he was magnificent.

Hard, gleaming muscles rippled beneath his skin, sculpted by divine power and infernal strength. They beckoned for her touch, an irresistible invitation that sent a wave of heat surging through her veins. Her hands instinctively rose, drawn to him like moths to a flame, then hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty holding her back. Was this truly allowed?.

With a huff of playful impatience, he took her hands, his fingers intertwining with hers, and placed them on his bare skin. The contact sparked a radiant heat within her, a sensation that seemed to emanate from him and transfer to her by touch, igniting a fire in unmentionable places. Her breath hitched in her throat, a soft gasp escaping her lips.

"That’s it. Lower," he whispered, his voice husky with desire. He guided her hand down to the hard bulge in his trousers, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through her. Her fingers trembled as she grasped him, the heat and strength of him making her head spin. He groaned, a low, guttural sound that vibrated against her palm, and a wave of faintness washed over her.

He wants me.

"I… I'm not used to this," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper, a blush warming her cheeks.

"You'll learn," he promised, his eyes darkening with a possessive gleam that sent a shiver down Benzosia's spine. There was a raw confidence in his tone, a certainty that resonated deep within her, igniting a thrill of anticipation. And beneath that, a flicker of something else—a dangerous edge, a hint of the forbidden that both excited and unnerved her.

Something I've been starving for, something Heaven could never offer.

He scooped her up with effortless strength, holding her impossibly close, their bodies flush against each other. The heat radiating from him was intoxicating, a tangible reminder of his infernal power. He carried her to the massive bed, its silken sheets gleaming in the dim light, and placed her gently amidst the plush pillows. As she lay there, basking in the feel of his powerful embrace, his gaze met hers, a silent promise passing between them.

Then, his "magic mouth," as she'd come to think of it, found her breast. The warmth of his lips, the gentle tug of his teeth, sent a jolt of pure sensation through her. A soft moan escaped her lips, a sound she'd never thought herself capable of making, a rather lustful sound that echoed in the quiet chamber. He answered with a low groan, his tongue teasing her nipple into an aching nub. Each flick of his tongue, each subtle shift in pressure, sent waves of heat radiating through her.

Just when she thought she could take no more of his exquisite torment, his mouth moved to the other breast. The change in sensation was like a spark igniting tinder, and the liquid heat inside of her turned into an inferno. Her breath hitched in her throat, a gasp escaping her lips as a wave of intense pleasure washed over her. Her fingers tangled in his hair, her grip tightening as the sensations intensified, each touch a silent plea for more. This is it, she thought, her mind swirling with a dizzying mix of desire and surrender. This is what it means to truly feel alive.

“Love me,” he murmured softly against her chest, his fingers trailing over intimate folds, prodding, pressing until he found a particular spot that made her squirm. She tried to escape the delicious intensity, but he was relentless. Then, with a hard push, he entered her. Her breath hitched, a gasp escaping her lips as a wave of intense pleasure washed over her, a pleasure heightened by the way he relentlessly teased that sensitive spot. He pressed her until she saw stars, each flicker of light a testament to his power over her senses.

“Asmodeus…”

He didn’t speak, his breaths shallow, his cheeks flushed. His dark gaze remained unwavering, fixed on her, as the pressure between her legs increased. He entered her slowly, deliberately, stretching her past the point of mere pleasure, into a realm of something deeper, something almost reverent. She kissed him with more urgency, her hands gripping his back to offset the discomfort, but also, she realized, to anchor herself to him, as if he were a god she was clinging to for salvation. He stopped only when she was so full she could barely draw in a breath, braced himself over her, looking down at her with a searching, unfathomable look. It wasn't just desire in his eyes, she realized, but something else—a yearning, an almost desperate need.

“Say that you love me, Benzosia. Me, above all others.” His breaths were shaky and uneven too. She wasn’t alone caught in this maelstrom, he was there with her, but there was a subtle difference. He wasn't just lost in passion, but basking in it, as if her pleasure was a tribute to him, a form of worship.

“I love you, Asmodeus. Above all others.” The words tumbled out, sincere and heartfelt, but even as she spoke them, a tiny, almost imperceptible seed of unease began to sprout within her. Is it love he so desperately longs for? Or is it something more he craves?. Doubt filtered through her thoughts like fine sand, only to be swept away in the tidal wave of passion.

He pulled back and thrust, again and again, his panting breaths turning to soft grunts then to groans, pounding into her relentlessly as she clung to him. His fingers found a new spot, slightly under where he’d been rubbing, coaxing a shockingly loud moan from her lips. He smirked at the sound, a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes that bordered on something almost… triumphant. A tidal wave of sensation burst through her, the world around her whiting out for a moment. Waves of bliss rolled through her, a new one with each delicious throb, and she couldn't help but feel that with each wave, she was giving him something more than just her pleasure. She was giving him her devotion, her complete and utter surrender.

“You’re mine now.” The words weren't just a lover's claim, but something more profound, something almost… possessive.

With a harsh groan, Asmodeus started thrusting again, harder and faster than before, clasping both hips tight until, with a loud growl, he rammed in deep and stayed. Next she felt the quaking of tight muscles, and heard his groan of pleasure as he settled against her. The next moment he rolled off her, collapsing on the pillow at her side, leaving her blinking up at the ceiling in a daze.

“I needed that.” He gave her a sideways glance, pulling her still throbbing body against his before sinking into a deep slumber. There was a quiet satisfaction on his face, a serene contentment that went beyond mere physical release. It was as if he had received something more, something vital, something that fed a deeper hunger within him.

Astonished and a little confused, she admired the slumbering form of her husband, and king.

So this is love what love is?

It was not the tender, gentle love she had envisioned. Instead, it was an inferno, exhilarating and demanding, a consuming fire that branded her soul. A mark, deeper than any physical touch, would forever remain. It felt as if he had reached inside, past the fragile cage of her ribs, and claimed a piece of her essence, something that resonated far beyond the confines of blood and bone.