Conquest Of The Fallen: Dark Dominions

Chapter 205 Glory Hole! [18+]

RAFEL'S ROOMMATE didn't return that night.

It was late morning and Rafel pushed back his bedchamber drapes as he sipped on warm tea and watched the seagulls in sky through his floor-to-ceiling looking-glass. If the turnout last night at the theater was any indication, Percival had probably hit the honeypot with a bunch of groupies from the play.

Certain as the mana-charge in a Druid Meister's staff was the love of young girls for stars on the stage, especially if he was darned fine as Percival. Rafel took a calming finishing gulp of his tea and floated the mug to his bedside table behind by a fresh crimson aura.

It was called [Red Rush Rakrä]. Rakrä, after the ancient Latviann art of telekinesis among the monks that lived up in the Alps.

The teacup was enveloped in a wine-colored shade as it hovered smoothly for the top of the drawers and settled down of its own accord.

Ordinarily, Rafel could have made use of his shadows in moving the mug but he was learning much in the classes he took by his part-Manifest as a witch of the [Phoenix Arc]. As the only bi-magical student of the elite institute, he was well taken off by the headmistress and tutors alike. The arrival of Rafel showed dynamic things were possible of the known arcane order.

He figured it was high time he start pulling on the surge of blood magic he had within him too.

Formerly, at [C.A.W], only vampires manifested for Phoenix Arc and had the ability to rise up to the rank of [Sanguine Sovereign] from the lowly summoner by their Fourth Years.

Not anymore though. Since a certain Viscountess had conceived and birthed a trueblood, alive, screaming, pale-haired baby by her vampire Lord, the myths had gone in check. Apparently, the fable of vampires shooting blanks was just that.

These days kids were pulled from their mothers legs by shocked midwives as vampires and budded tiny fangs by their first birthdays. It challenged the liberal laws of the Continent greatly—especially among the villages with only populations of lay mortals: like Castamere. If children could be born bloodsuckers now, 'what' couldn't be born?

The seagulls dipped in the clouds and Rafel blinked.

He watched them swoop from the sunny heavens to a cresting wave before he turned from the glass view. He wished and hoped Percival had a better, hotter night than he. After the theatre spectacle last night, he'd been made sleepy on the bottle of Royal Red to do anything about the boner he had.

So after dropping off at his solemn dormitory's rise, he gave the carriageman strict discipline to take the girls and only leave them at the room doors of their respective Halls: Brightburn and Copenhägen.

They were drunk, and yes, while he trusted his women to behave proper, he did not trust the boys of the fucking college not to try something. Much more after a night of watching a boy in bed with his mum. And, "I don't want to be expelled for killing some recalcitrants. I quite like it here," was his words as the carriageman rolled away with his ladies. "Not after I'd just murdered that Virtue."

He had no doubt the School Board would have his hide if they found out he had cold 'iced' an angel on campus grounds—even if this angel had been a cunt.

Nicara would try; he being the foxy headmistress's favorite, but Israfel would be put on trial, definitely before the [Three Without Eyes].

"Lucky me for covering my tracks." He said out loud.

He didn't want to think that Aariel had put hands on Ravenna. It made him want to crack that fucker's neck again. So he scraped his mind as he picked up a long dark robe from his closet racks. He had this morning full of free periods, so he didn't need to be at the Citadel until later. He had perhaps an hour or two. It was just about noon now.

Pulling the robe over his golden body, Rafel strode for Percival's partitioned chamber past the common lounge area. His profile resembled that of the god Apollo as he passed by a huge vanity. In Percival's corner, he found the wide space in general disarray. His roomie was warrior and friend, but not tidy.

Rafel's eyes landed on the hot poster of the topless girls above the cypress headboard.

"Hmm." His tongue ran his teeth. Enjoy new tales from empire

Percy probably had it up in that place so he didn't have to stress to get a wank.

Pretty innovative, no?

But Israfel preferred variety. He couldn't come every time to just one picture, or one girl. It wasn't them. It was he. And surprisingly, they liked him for it.

Rafel's gaze smoothly slid to the shaved girl in a framed paintwork on the shelf. She was a Van Imperia he could tell. Perhaps related to Percival. She had sun-blond eyebrows. And beyond the smoothness of her well-formed head, she had the body of a supermodel. Tiny hips.

Legs longer than Euphrates. And the thigh-gap on her was just impossible.

"Well damn!" Hot blood fired to Rafel's dick. The sudden upheave of his penis stretched his boxers.

Her green marine eyes stared from the shelf at him, like she knew. Her pink lips curled in a dazzling, beckoning smile.

"Fuck it."

Rafel knew Percival kept a box of tissues and tub of Freydis' oil ready in his drawers. In a flash, he fished them out and stood with his briefs down and robe open. He oiled up his right hand, his gold eyes hot on the shaved girl's photo. His fingers had just found the heaviness of his cock when—

[DING!]

"Gods be damned!"

Peitho's sultry AI voice hit Rafel just as the noon alarms came ringing. Rafel groaned and tried to sustain his breathing. His heart was thundering. His cock was gun-slingin'. He was on a roll. But...

Outside, he could hear Erika's syrupy diction making some announcement he didn't give a fuck to listen to. If Miss prim President talked too loudly, he just might drag her in and stuff her mascaraed face with his stiffer.

If Peitho had been material, he would bend over that very shelf, ram her head into the photo of the supermodel and pile-drive her into never-after.

"If. . ." Rafel sighed and pulled his hand off his cock.

To think of the [Gyaru] heiress of House Burgess with her glossed lips wrapped around his bobbing prod cooled Rafel's blood at suddenly being interrupted—some. And he sighed again, snapping the tub of Freydis' bath oil. The tissues burned to ash in his tight palm. He angrily pulled up his briefs and shut his robe.

"What is it, Peitho?"

[I deeply apologize, Host.]

Rafel was already striding out of Percival's space; he put it at the back of his mind to ask his roomie about who the shaven girl in the framed photo was.

Peitho's continuing voice was a mild salve:

[But my Lord Apollyon, as your system I must inform you of your schedules. I sense your mood is greatly impoverished. As such, I'd skip right into it. That was the noon bells for breaktime twelve point five seconds ago. You have Dr. Emery Blood's class at one o'clock.

Swiftly followed by a session of land map navigation with Tutor of Ranger Arts, Major Tanaka Hanzo.

At 1500 hours, you have planned pizza snacking with your harem. On Mistress Naamah's orders, you are not to be late.]

The hum of Rafel in the bathroom dulled out Peitho's voice in his head. It was her ending words that had Rafel scrambling for the shower's nub and hitting the panel to stop the rain with suds in his hair.

[Also, Lord Apollyon, if you still wish to relieve yourself of your manly essence, Miss Corazón is currently stuck in the boy's locker room, in the last stall. She is slightly afraid and willing.]

[Ding!]

[System has provided one lush chick.]

[Distance from Host: 2.05 miles.]

[Is Host willing to engage lustful urge? To commit his sin in a near public place?]

[Y/N?]

Rafel was already out the sliding glass of the bath and rubbing himself down with a towel. "What do you think, Peitho? Of course yes." He dragged on quick clothes and slung a dark [Raven Arc] blazer over his left shoulder. His classes after what he planned to do would demand a bland fashion.

Rafel picked up a his keycard, slipping it into his back pocket as he called on elemental sorcery to ship him to the boys locker room.

"Dark Arts! The Gray Doorway!"

In the moment of his words, a portal with an ashy outlined blurred into the room's space. He stepped into the foggy doorway and was enveloped with a whoosh. His system teleported him straight into the adjoining stall of Cora's funny imprisonment.

Rafel didn't bother with introductions.

"Listen here, ghost girl. I can help you out of this place if you help me."

"Israfel, is that you?" Cora leaned on the thin, limoline wall separating their stalls and whispered, "thank the gods. Whew! I was wondering how I was gonna get outta here. Have you seen the boys outside? They're fucking everywhere. I wouldn't live this down if I was caught.

They'd brand me the lesbo who was caught spying on dick. You don't even want to know how I got in here. I just wanted to pee so bad I misread the sign on the door, you know?

But wait, did you say I have to help you too?" She halted her stuttering. "Can't you just portal me away? Do your thing? Your mojo or whatever."

Rafel glanced at his ticking swiss watch. He had class in the next twenty minutes. He didn't have time for this shit.

He closed his fist and summoned a ball of red fire around it. Touching his fiery hand to the limoline wall, he burned out the hard plastic. The wall melted in a precise circle the shape of his flaming fist. And his hand went right through. He pulled back and shook out the flames, telling her with his forehead to the wall, "I do not have the time to explain, Corazón.

All you must know is I have class in a bit and I've a need down south. And I sure as hell am not going to Dr. Blood fucking class with blue balls. The man teaches for hours.

You need to help me out here, Cora. I need you. My cock needs you. If you could see it right now. I mean it's hard and heavy and sprung. The way I see it, it's the only way the both of us get what we want, no?"

"Alright." Cora's response came out breathy. "You got me at cock."

In her stall, she placed her palms on the opposite wall of the small cubicle and bent down to fit her bum over the hole in the wall Rafel had created.

The glory hole.

She hiked up her pleated school skirt; she was glad to have chosen this against her usual pants as she pulled down her white tights. "Yes, love. Perfect. Stay like that." Rafel's hard whisper sang across the wall to her as he angled himself through the hole and pushed. Cora's hot channel was waiting right on the other side. Her body accepted him and her sex twitched at his filling size.

His throbbing penis went all in.

"Oh gods!" Cora moved one hand from the wall back to her mouth to quieten her moans.

She had never done anything as naughty as this before.

"Oh yes. You're wet. And so fucking tight. Give me that pussy. This hot, tight cunt. Yes, Corazón.

I love your fucking pussy." Rafel tried his best to keep his dirty whispering down as Cora blew out her pleasure in muffles. She came twice bent over in the stall, with Rafel in the next one seating himself deep inside her over and over.

The sounds their bodies made at their points of joining were soft, but the passion was intense.

Cora came a third time with Rafel.

He grabbed the tops of the stall hard as he jerked into her tight heat, desperate to touch her. The fact that he could not turned her on the more. Cora's pink hole accepted all the gallons he gave; she shivered and mewled, faceplanting her hands as she rodes the high waves of a feverish orgasm.

Rafel pulled out and wickedly bent to look in the glory hole and his creampie.

"Corazón," he panted as they both caught their breaths, "you're so beautiful with your pussy clenching around my spunk." He waited a full minute as they both arranged themselves and brushed back matted hair. Then he said again, commanding sorcery into the locker room, "Dark Arts! The Gray Door!"

This time, two ash doorways whooshed into the air, one on his end, and the other on Cora's.