by L. A. Boruff
Undulating in a primal dance older than humanity, Lilith rode Kamo with an urgency bordering on desperation. Kamo’s deepening groans, the guttural grunts of her name that bore both a plead and demand, drove Lilith harder. Her nails raked at his flesh, leaving deep, bloody furrows in their wake, as she felt the tidal pressure of her release threatening to crash through her. Lilith fought her way towards orgasm, clawing her way forward, but it kept eluding her, dancing just outside of grasp.
Until Kamo could hold back his own pleasure no longer, and in giving up his own control, he drove her over the edge.
Kamo’s cock swelled within her, forcing her aching inner muscles to strain to contain him, as the sudden explosion of his thick, hot seed battering against her insides drove her over the edge and sent her crashing into ecstasy. Every forceful pulse of his cum sent shockwaves exploding within her, tearing a cry of release from her throat as his potent essence flooded her to overflowing with his offering.
Surging downwards, driving him as deep within her as he could possibly go, Lilith froze atop of him, soaking up the sheer pleasure as he spilled himself within her. Shuddering, she bit back a cry as she felt his power flowing through her, energizing her with the very source of life itself, the intoxicating high making her quiver with its strength.
When her breathing finally slowed, when the pleasure washed away and she could open her eyes, Lilith looked down at Kamo, her lips parting in a smile of satisfaction.
He had passed out, his lips parted in a soft snore, his face slack in a blissful expression.
Chuckling softly, Lilith shook her head as she slowly leveraged herself off his prone form and off the bed. Brushing a tender kiss against his forehead, she padded into the shower.
She would have to rush through her morning ablutions in order to make her scheduled appointment. As she leaned her forehead against the cool slate of her shower, letting the multiple showerheads blast her flesh with scalding, soothing heat, she gathered herself, mentally preparing herself for what was to come.
It was time to begin the ending of the world as everyone knew it.
Hopefully, she would survive the ordeal ahead, but if not, at least she had these last few moments of bliss with sweet Kamo before the end.
2
Let There Be Light
“Where is the fucking bitch?” He was not amused. Not in the slightest. “The Bitch Queen has the audacity to summon us, and the sheer gall to leave us waiting?”
“Oh, do shut up, Cain,” Loki said with an exaggerated roll of vivid purple eyes towards the pacing man. “Although, it’s good to see that those anger management classes have worked miracles for your temperament.”
“Fuck you, pussy,” Cain growled, turning towards the indolent trickster god, who sat sprawled with one leg thrown carelessly over the arm of the elegant antique settee nearly as old as the thousand-year-old castle they had been summoned to.
“Please do,” Loki replied sweetly, batting his eyes flirtatiously at the large, brutish man. In the blink of an eye, Loki’s appearance grew softer, more feminine, his voice slipping into a husky, seductive timbre as she purred, “It’s been awhile since I’ve been fucked by a mongrel, and my kids could use a new baby brother to torment.”
Running a hand down the slender column of her neck, Loki thrust out her chest, her more-than-generous breasts threatening to tear free of the confines of the silk shirt she wore. “How do you like your pussies, Cain? Soft, sweet, and submissive like good little kittens, or furry, furious, and fangy wildcats?” She shrugged languidly, stretching her arms over head and relaxing back against the settee seat, adopting a seductive pose. “Either way, I’m easy.”
Cain’s body swelled with his anger, his shoulders broadening, his features growing more bestial as his face contorted with rage. Grabbing his groin, his brown eyes flamed crimson as he spat through a suddenly fang-filled muzzle, “I’ll shove my cock so far up your ass, you’ll be tasting my spunk for weeks, after I tear your arms from your body and bury them in your cunt, you omnisexual, shapeshifting sack of shit!”
“Oh, kinky!” Loki crowed, giggling as she wriggled around in faux wanton desire, “I always knew you preferred it rough. Have you been reading Fifty Shades of…”
“Would both of you please shut the fuck up? You’re giving me a headache.”
Although the request was softly uttered, the inherent threat in the words was enough to have them both backing down, albeit reluctantly.
Tall and elegant, the golden male turned from the window where he had been staring out at the dreary Scottish countryside as twilight deepened. Even through the dark, misty fog that cloaked the desolate moors, the dancing lights of the Aurora Borealis surged, painting the sky with an eerie green luminescence bright enough to rival the first light of dawn. The spectacle illuminated the window, casting the figure in stark relief as he faced the room.
“I do not know why she summoned us here,” the disdain in the male’s voice was apparent, as was the disgust on his face as his swept his gaze over the others in the room. “But it is an intriguing combination of disparate, villainous individuals, I must admit.”
The man ran his brilliant golden eyes over Cain contemptuously, a sneer crossing his inhumanly perfect face as he continued to speak in his strange, clipped accent.
“Cain Adamson, the First Born and the First Murderer, cast out of Eden for the murder of his brother.”
Cain snarled, his lip curling even as he backed down and turned away to glare at the roaring fire blazing with deceptive merriment in the ancient hearth. He was only of average height, but his body was packed with thick muscles. With his dark, wild hair and even wilder beard, his skin was weathered by the sun and elements, lending him a savage air. To look at him, none would know he was the wealthiest human on Earth, the father of countless Empires, and the hidden power behind countless secret societies and criminal empires around the globe.
“Loki Hveðrungr, former brother of Odin and comrade of Thor, cast out of Valhalla and herald of Ragnarök.”
Loki resumed his male form, his features vulpine sharp as a bright grin crossed his handsome face as he gave a languid “Queenly” wave. With his long, red-gold hair contrasting against his emerald silk shirt, and his lean frame, he looked more like a male model escaped from a Parisian runway than the infamous Trickster god once feared by the Norse and now adored by the masses, due in no small part from the popularity of a certain actor portraying a distorted version of Loki taken from comic books—no doubt another of Loki’s complicated schemes.
The golden-haired man, his glowing amber eyes sharp and penetrating, turned his attention to the other side of the room, where two other males were deep in a heated, whispered discussion. The taller of the two was dressed in a skin-tight crimson t-shirt emblazoned with a golden Spartan helmet on the breast, tucked into black fatigue pants, which emphasized his tall, powerful build. His skin was bronzed, his body muscular and held with disciplined rigidity. His black hair was close-cropped, as was his beard, which only emphasized his military bearing.
“Ares, son of Zeus and Hera, despised by his own pantheon, yet the beloved god of the Thracians, Spartans, and even the Amazons, said to have challenged his father and forced them to retreat to Olympus, cutting themselves off from the world.”
Ares briefly glanced over at the golden male as his name was spoken, his features twisting in a sneer of derision, before he turned back to his companion, purposefully presenting his back to the rest of the room in an obvious sign of disrespect. His companion was similarly dressed all in black, although more casually so.
Shorter than his companion by a few inches, his long, coal black hair was pulled back into a ponytail, proudly displaying the numerous ivory piercings that decorated his face, from rings lining both ears to a large one piercing his nose. His skin was burnished to a dark sepia by the shadows and firelight, while his black eyes were piercing, even in the shadows. Broad-shouldered but lanky, his tattered jeans emphasized his nar
row waist and long limbs, while his bare, muscular arms were heavily inked with the distinctive Aztec calendar surrounding the leering face of a stylized black dog.
Preempting his introduction, Ares’ companion swept a grandiose, mocking bow as he waved a hand for the golden male to carry on. This earned him an equally mocking chuckle as the golden male continued, “Then we have Xolotl, dark twin of the much more famous Quetzalcoatl, the monstrous dog of fire, misfortune, disease, and death.”
“Then there’s you, my dear, sweet brother!” Another voice interjected, as the final male in the room came up beside the golden-haired man and hooked a friendly arm around his brother’s shoulder, “Lucifer Morningstar, the Devil himself, cast out of Heaven and either imprisoned in Hell or given charge of rehabilitating all the condemned souls held therein, depending on who you ask.”
Lucifer sighed, his head bowing as he lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose between his elegant fingers. “And, of course, last and no doubt least, my brother, Shemyaza, the great fornicator, leader of the Grigori, father of the Nephilim, who’s directly responsible for the Great Flood.”
“Hey! That wasn’t my fault! That was all Daddy dearest, and that suck-up Gabriel! And I’ve paid for my sins, I’m all reformed and everything now. Straight, narrow, and all that! At least, officially, on paper, that is.”
“And yet, you still manage to be the bane of my existence, brother dearest,” Lucifer said as he turned towards his brother. “Just how did you get out, anyways? And why are you here?”
The two were of a similar height, a little over six feet, with athletic builds and nearly identical features—perfection given flesh. But where Lucifer was gold and sunlight, Shemyaza was silver and moonlight. Shemyaza’s skin was palest ivory to Lucifer’s golden tan, his long, wavy hair silvery-white to Lucifer’s fashionably short, sun-kissed blond. Most startling, however, were Shemyaza’s ghost-white eyes; he was a phantom mirror of his “brother.”
Smiling, Shemyaza dropped his arm and stepped back from Lucifer, spreading his arms wide as he attempted to look innocent. “Haven’t you heard? Seems the Apocalypse is coming, only it’s not exactly going how it was described in the Good Book.” He paused, and frowned a bit, “Actually, it’s not going according to any of the ‘Books,’ from what I’m picking up.”
“That’s because I’ve taken over the Apocalypse to make sure it’s done correctly.”
Lilith’s voice was cool as she strode calmly into the room where six of the most dangerous beings in existence had been waiting impatiently to find out why they had been summoned.
Dressed in stark black, Lilith stood tall and proud, unafraid before these dangerous monsters. Her black silk blouse covered her from neck to wrist, the corseted waist emphasizing her high, full breasts, while a black ruff leant an air of femininity to an otherwise stark uniform. Black slacks hugged her long, shapely legs, while high heeled patent leather boots gave her already impressive height of six feet another few inches—putting her at eye level with most of the males in the room.
With her flaxen hair falling in gentle waves around her beautiful face, Lilith was a regal, cold beauty unlike the wanton temptress spoken of in hushed, fervent tones. She met the unblinking stares of the six males, unflinching before the intensity or weight of their stares. Finally, Loki broke the silence.
“What do you mean?” Loki asked, his voice deceptively even given the weird, sick smile on his face. “I mean, each of us has our preordained roles to play, and except for you being known as the succubus who spawns monstrous babies just to hand them over to be killed by the angels, you’re not exactly named as one of the Big Bads of Mythology. Let’s face it, chickadee, the Whore of Babylon plays a bigger role than you do. You’re just a cautionary tale told to keep young men from spreading their seed willy nilly and to prevent women from wanting to be on top.”
Lilith’s ice blue eyes pinned Loki with a flat stare that had him squirming beneath her frigid regard. The smirk faded from his thin lips, and he suddenly found the designs on the settee most fascinating.
“The twit’s right,” Cain growled reluctantly, “Besides, you’re a female. Aren’t you supposed to be nurturing and all that shit. I mean, if this world’s ending, it’s about damned time, but it’s not like they won’t need breeders in the new world, and that’s what you’re best at, isn’t it?”
Cain’s dark eyes slowly, purposefully raked up Lilith’s body, his lips pursing as a smirk crossed his face. “I’d be more than happy to help you get that started. My father was a fool for pussy, a weak, pathetic man. I think you’ll find that I’m a much better fuck than he would have been anyways.”
“Is it always about pussy with you?” Loki groaned, slumping back on the settee and tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling, as if seeking guidance from one of the divinities supposedly dwelling overhead. “You really do have a one-track mind, don’t you?”
“Would you both shut up!” Ares barked, his voice loud and sharp, laden with command. “I want to hear what she has to say. You two can go and fuck out your sexual tension later, let the lady speak.”
“Oh, like you’re any better,” Loki drawled, turning a jaundiced eye upon the Greek god of war. “I mean Aphrodite led you around by your short and curlies, and Athena bitch-slapped you around like a pimp on a power trip.”
“Just because I won’t slap a woman, don’t think I won’t put you in your place, Loki,” Ares fisted his hands at his sides as he took a threatening step towards Loki.
“No wonder you were kicked out of Valhalla, dude,” Xolotl laughed, his English heavily laced with a suspiciously strong accent, considering his usage of American slang. “It’s like you want people to punch you in the face.”
Waving his hand airly, Loki adopted a haughty, wounded expression, “It’s not my fault people cannot handle the truth. It’s my sacred duty to reveal truths, to say what others fear to say, to…”
“Sow dissent, reap chaos, and glory in discord,” Shemyaza interjected, his own laughter ringing out, “Yeah, yeah, we all know how Trickster gods work. It’s not like your schtick is unique. We all know hundreds of Trickster gods who all use the same lame excuses for being rude.”
“Yeah, well, none of them are staring in Hollywood blockbusters though, are they?” Loki said pointedly, his gaze narrowing as he glared around the room. “For that matter, none of you are exactly all that popular amongst the mortals, with the possible exception of Lucy over there, and that’s only because he’s been hobnobbing in Hollywood for the past few decades, making sure his image gets polished up. Only…I did it better.”
“So now you’re taking credit for what’s his name? Tom Hiddleston?” Xolotl laughed once again, the raucous barking loud in the chamber as he doubled over in amusement, arms wrapped around his waist. “Isn’t Lucifer supposed to be the Lord of Lies?”
“How did I get dragged into this?” Lucifer asked, and it was clearly rhetorical as he didn’t receive any answer as the others continued bickering, their strident voices growing progressively louder with every tossed insult.
Lilith stood there, her presence forgotten entirely, as the males argued amongst themselves.
“And this is why I took control of the Apocalypse,” she muttered, shaking her head in disgust.
“Yes, so you said,” Lucifer turned his calculating gaze her way, his preternatural hearing as sharp as the others. “But you did not explain why, or how, you plan on running this world’s end. Please, do enlighten us.”
The room fell silent as six set of inhuman eyes once more returned to staring at Lilith. Meeting their eyes, Lilith slowly smiled, her crimson-painted lips a bright, bloody slash against her fair skin. Arching a delicate eyebrow in supercilious punctuation as she commented, “It’s simple, really, and you’re all going to help me.”
“Oh?” Ares asked, his voice curious as his brown eyes focused intently on her face, “And how’s that?”
“Let me put this in a way you all will underst
and.” Lilith paused, pursing her lips thoughtfully, before she gave a short, decisive nod as she settled upon the proper phrasing.
“To put this in ‘manspeak,’ we’re going to have a gang bang to ring in the big bang.”
3
You Are the Alpha
“Well, I’m in! Let’s get this party started!”
Shemyaza stripped out of his shirt with preternatural swiftness, removing his cable-knit sweater to reveal he wore nothing beneath. Like most immortals, he was athletically built, with wide shoulders and narrow hips, slimly muscled with rigidly defined abdominal muscles. His ivory skin was flawless, without a single blemish, and completely hairless, as was revealed when he stripped off his slacks to show that he proudly went commando—and had nothing to be ashamed of, at all, in the “masculinity” department. Even unaroused, his cock was plump and long, swaying hypnotically with his every graceful movement.
Shemyaza possessed a physical perfection even the great Renaissance Masters could not have fully captured, although they certainly attempted it. Michelangelo had come the closest, but even he would have wept at his inability to capture such inhuman beauty.
Lilith had seen countless nude males during her existence, from burly, brutish humans to supernaturally gifted gods and demons, but fallen angels had little competition when it came to masculine beauty.
“If you just wanted a fuck, Lilith, you could have just called,” Cain laughed, a dark, cruel sound as his eyes continued their lascivious perusal of Lilith’s body. Stroking his unruly beard, he pursed his lips as he shrugged, “No need to end the world just because you’ve been going through a dry spell.”
“Who said we wanted to end the world now, anyways?” Lucifer’s narrow eyes were piercing, “I’m quite enjoying watching the humans fuck everything up. This little experiment of Father’s has gotten out of his control, and I, for one, am quite entertained.”
