Seven Sins System Chapter 659. Lust and Hunger II
Seven Sins System Chapter 659. Lust and Hunger II
I wanted to feel like the devil I am.
Like the monster who burned gates and split skies.
Not this shell of quiet grief and soft longing.
I sucked in a breath—and that was when it happened.
The first slip.
The first choice.
My Demonic Power responded not to rage, but to need.
[Shadow Space activated.]
The room blinked out.
The sun disappeared. The light. The windows. Gone.
Everything fell away into quiet velvet darkness. The infirmary faded into silhouettes of memory—walls vanishing like illusions behind a curtain of smoke.
And Julia…
She was still here.
Lit only by the aura of my spell and the way her skin reflected the ambient shimmer of my realm. Pale and flushed and absolutely real. Her hands rested on my hips now, slow and sure, and her brows raised just a little.
“You’ve never done this,” she whispered.
My throat worked. “No.”
A long pause. The air between us was heavy. Expectant.
“Why now?” she asked.
I didn’t answer.
Because the real answer sounded too close to desperation.
Too close to ‘Please don’t stop.’
Too close to ‘Make me remember who I am.’
But I think she knew.
Julia exhaled—slow and deep—and then she moved again. Her fingers dragged across my waistband, deliberate, slow. She was confident, sure, but not cruel. Not arrogant.
She knew I could stop her at any moment. But I didn’t.
I watched her as she unfastened me. Her expression didn’t change. Her lashes didn’t flutter. She didn’t bite her lip or strike some faux-sultry pose. She just did it like it was something sacred. Like unwrapping a relic.
And when she touched me?
I didn’t mean to groan.
Didn’t mean for it to sound that raw. That broken.
But it escaped anyway. A thick, primal sound—dragged from somewhere deeper than desire. Something darker than need.
Her fingers moved with purpose now—exploring, stroking. Not a game. Not teasing. Just taking me in.
Mapping me.
Learning what I was.
And I just sat there.
My head fell back against the chair. My hands stayed limp. My legs parted a little more. I let her.
Because maybe this was what I needed.
Not domination. Not chaos.
Just… to be seen.
She shifted lower. I could feel her breath. Could feel her mouth—hot, soft, sinful.
I groaned again. Louder.
Didn’t care if it echoed. Didn’t care if it sounded unhinged.
Because maybe I was.
Because in that moment—when she took me into her mouth like it was the most natural, reverent thing in the world—I felt real again.
Not whole. Not healed.
But real.
And yeah… maybe I should’ve stopped her.
Maybe I should’ve done something—held her, guided her, teased her like I usually do.
But I didn’t.
I needed her to take control. To show me that I wasn’t slipping. That someone could still reach me.
So I didn’t move.
I let her play.
Let her take.
And the way she moved—slow at first, then deeper. Bolder. She knew what she was doing. Knew how to read the tension in my body like scripture.
And I couldn’t stop the thoughts that came with it.
Not the hot ones. Not the hungry ones.
But the dark ones.
The ones that whispered about Puriel.
About taking her. Binding her. Dragging her into this same shadow realm and keeping her. Just mine. Just forever.
Where she wouldn’t have to choose between love and loyalty. Where I could protect her. Keep her away from queens and expectations.
Where I could break her wings and still kiss every feather.
Where I could corrupt every inches of her and make her only mine…
Yeah.
That part of me?
Still very much alive.
And I hated that I wanted it. That I still wanted her that way. That obsessively.
That violently.
Even though I knew it wasn’t love.
It was madness.
But somehow I could hold myself.
Yeah, I should get a trophy for that level of self-restraint.
Julia didn’t stop. Her hands moved with the same reverent rhythm, her mouth working in ways that made my thighs flex and my breath catch.
And still, I didn’t move.
Because maybe I was afraid.
Afraid that if I did, I’d lose the part of me still anchored in this moment. In her.
In something real.
Because if I gave in to that other part—the one whispering about chains and wings and darkness—I wouldn’t stop.
Not this time.
So I clung to the present.
To Julia’s mouth.
To her heat.
To her goddamn patience.
And when she hummed around me—soft and deliberate, like she knew I needed grounding—I couldn’t hold back the groan that tore from my chest.
Louder this time.
Rough.
Borderline feral.
And I still didn’t move.
Not because I was frozen.
But because I was choosing this.
Letting her be the tether.
The balm.
The reminder.
That I was still here.
Still more than just wrath and scars and obsessive hunger.
Still a devil—but maybe one that could be held, not just feared.
My fingers finally moved—just barely. They found her hair. Slid through it.
Not to guide her.
Just to touch her.
Just to say I’m still here.
She didn’t look up.
Didn’t pause.
She just stayed steady.
A rhythm. A mercy.
I let myself fall.
Not into her.
Not into pleasure.
But into something even rarer.
Trust.
That was the most terrifying part.
Not the softness. Not the slow heat curling in my stomach. Not even the idea that Julia could bring me to the edge without needing me to be the Devil Prince, or the Wrath Lord, or the monster who crushed archangels underfoot.
It was that I let her hold me.
And she did. Without faltering. Without flinching.
But then—she changed.
Her pace. Her pressure.
It happened all at once.
She sucked hard.
Like something inside her had shifted. Snapped. Decided I wasn’t going to just sit there like a half-broken war god trying not to feel. No—she took.
And I flinched.
My hips jerked forward on instinct. The motion wasn’t elegant. It wasn’t planned.
It was primal.
My hand shot down and tangled in her hair, clutching tight—not cruel, not rough, but firm. My fingers curled into those strands like they were reins on a dragon threatening to lose control.
And then—without thinking, without softening.
I spoke.
“Deeper.”