A Dance Of Gods ✓

26. The throne

Lucifer

  I land on the balcony outside of my bedroom in hell, unable to focus. She said she liked me. Liked. I never get like this but... did our time alone mean nothing to her? Fuck, it was good sex. Not particularly kinky- but good.

Jesus was different. Neither of us knew how to do what we were doing but I would call him my first love. I still feel his lips exploring my body.... And hers. Here are fresher in my mind.

  I lean my forehead on the palms of my hands, certain my blood pressure would be through the roof if I were human and the things Michael said to me didn't exactly help. I take a deep breath, attempting to steady myself.

The throne room. Being there always helps when I'm stressed since it's the only place I don't allow my authority over hell to be questioned. Without control of that throne- who knows what'd happen?

LIKED?

How can she say she LIKES me after I fucked her and she fucked me the way she did?

It's far from fair with some of the things I've done, considering the fact I don't have the guts to say it to her- but I was expecting a different word.

Fucked. I'm completely fucked if she's as powerful as my father says she is... even more so if I do something to anger her. Michael was right. She does deserve better.

I don't want to anger her. I want her to be happy for all the days of her existence.

It's with that thought I punch myself in the face, trying to dissipate any emotions. Not letting myself feel will make this easier. It always has.

I stroll causally to the throne room, ignoring most of my followers- knowing I don't have the patience to interact with them. I push the room's double doors open and march straight to my seat, bigger than but at an equal level to the one belonging to Lilith. I unfurl my wings and climb onto it, curling up like a child. I run my fingers over the soft black fabric while I look over the rest of the room.

  It's been redone countless times since being materialized, mostly to keep me from getting bored with it- but there are always similarities. The doors will always be twice my height, the deepest black, and have intricate patterns carved into them. They were plain for a few hundred years in the beginning of hell's existence before Lilith got bored with torturing people- only briefly- and spent about seven thousand hours creating them with her sharp index nail. It will always be the same size, never expanding- unlike the area the torture chambers are in. Even if I manage to die, it will always hold two thrones. One for the ruler of hell and one for the second in command/ devil's most trusted advisor.

Black fabric covers the back and area my ass sits on, solid gold lining both, making up the arms and legs of my throne. It's large enough for multiple of me to spread out, making it perfect for other activities.

Lilith was the one who insisted on her throne being at an equal level to mine, of course. I smile at the memory. I was inclined to listen, with my whole free will and respect of women thing, but I liked hearing her talk. The way she spoke- being the world's first feminist, was so eloquent.

"Why would you not be satisfied with just having a throne?" I said, trying to prompt her to a speech. "When there is only one other in the entire kingdom?"

For a moment she just looked at me and shook her head. Then she tilted hers upwards, staring me in the eyes. I remember being turned on by how strong she was and feeling like I was cheating on Jesus. It is worse now that I feel like I've cheated on Taylor, though there is no official romantic relationship between us. Fucking Michael.