Translator’s note: Chapter still not suitable for children.
I felt something knock against the back of my head, followed by the sound of pages turning. A rich scent of milk filled the air, mingling with a familiar trace of body fragrance. I opened my eyes, blinking hard, only to find myself staring at… someone’s chest? I looked up and met those clear blue eyes.
Before I could even process what was happening, he lowered his head and gave me a gentle kiss.
I was wrapped in a thick blanket, my pillow none other than Lucifer’s left arm. He was leaning against a velvet cushion, holding a book in his right hand, flipping the pages with his left. Above us floated an ivory tray, a ring of silver bells hanging from its edge. Whenever the breeze stirred, the bells chimed softly. On the tray sat a glass half-filled with milk.
I sat up, and the blanket slipped down, leaving me stark naked.
Only then, as if waking from a dream, did the memory of everything that had happened come rushing back.
A chill hit my back, and I instinctively folded my wings to cover myself, but they weren’t nearly flexible enough. The room was cool, yet I felt absurdly hot… I grabbed the blanket and wrapped myself up, leaving only my eyes peeking out.
Lucifer set the book down and took a sip of milk.
The sight of that milky white liquid brought certain things flooding back… I shrank deeper into the blanket.
Lucifer seemed to be stifling a laugh, but in the end, he couldn’t help it. He chuckled. “Sleep well?”
I nodded. The blanket, now a doughy mass, bobbed along with me.
“That’s good. And… how did it feel?”
Feel?
How did what feel? Could he mean that?
Lucifer added, “I mean… did you feel good?”
He really was asking that!
What a roundabout way of saying it, but the meaning was clear: Was I good? Did you enjoy it?
But hey, I gotta be a man! Own up to it! Just admit it!
Finally, gritting my teeth, I nodded.
Lucifer didn’t reply. He just smiled at me. The sunlight shone into his eyes like soft velvet, his pupils clear as a pale blue lake. It was the first time I noticed how light this man’s hair really was—not just his curled lashes, but even the hair on his arms and legs glinted pale gold. And also for the first time, I thought body hair could actually look good on a man. I blinked and rubbed his arm. “Even this is blond?”
“Mhm. All of it is blond.”
Instinctively, my gaze drifted downward. Realizing that was a bit too familiar this soon, I cleared my throat and took a sip of milk instead. But he casually flipped a page in his book. “Down there’s blond too.”
“Pfft!”
I wiped the milk off my mouth and burst out laughing. “If Your Highness were a woman, you’d be drop-dead gorgeous.” I pictured a blonde beauty with stunning features, a killer figure, and golden body hair, a true divine stunner.
“I can turn into a woman,” Lucifer said with a faint smirk. “But if I did, you wouldn’t feel nearly as good.”
I almost spat out my milk again. But with a provocation like that, how could I not fire back? I sprawled out, lazily looking at him. “Someone as fine as you, Your Highness… ever tried being on the bottom?”
Lucifer paused, his brow faintly furrowed. “…Once.”
Once?
If Lucifer agreed to bottom, he must’ve really liked that person… which annoyed me.
“What was it like?”
“That’s a story for another day.”
I gritted my teeth. “No way, I want to know! And you’re not allowed to think about the past! From now on, you’re mine! Only mine!”
“That wasn’t the past.”
That shut me right up. I just stared at him, dumbfounded.
“All right, I’m done teasing,” Lucifer said, his tone softening. “Remember Metatron’s birthday?”
I nodded.
“That night, after Metatron dropped you off, I followed in child form. You were drunk and hadn’t even taken off your clothes. My arms weren’t long enough, so I changed back to my natural form to undress you and cover you with a blanket. You called my name, like you weren’t even aware. I leaned in to listen but didn’t have time to change back…”
“And?”
“And then… you topped me.”
Boom—boom—boom—
A thousand thunderclaps split through my brain. I grabbed his shoulders and shook him hard. “Why didn’t you dodge? Why didn’t you DODGE?!”
Lucifer let out a breath. “Why do you think?”
The image of Farthead curled up in a ball the next morning flashed through my mind, and my heart ached like a blade was twisting in it. I hugged him tightly. “That must’ve hurt… didn’t it?”
Lucifer’s arms tightened around me, his tone firm and resolute. “Don’t worry. That was an accident. It won’t happen again.”
“Uh?”
“Because…” Lucifer still didn’t finish what he was going to say. Instead, he took a sip of milk, leaned over, and fed it to me.
I didn’t catch it well, and the milk slid down my chin, spilling onto my chest like blooming strands of golden grass. He lifted my back and licked from my neck all the way down to my chest. Every nerve in my body went taut. I hugged his waist, trying to respond, and reached down beneath him.
The moment I touched it, I froze. I touched it again. Gripped it. Let go. In disbelief, I gripped it one more time.
Lucifer gasped softly, pulling the blanket off me and folding it beneath my back.
I declared decisively, “Not happening.”
Lucifer blinked. “What?”
I pushed him back and pointed down at him. “There’s no way that’s going in!”
Lucifer smiled and shook his head, leaning over me. “It was already inside you yesterday. Didn’t you say it felt good?”
“I didn’t see it yesterday!”
He breathed softly and gently parted my legs with his knee. “Trust me. It won’t hurt.”
His fingers, slick with milk, lingered at my entrance, circling, massaging, warmth spreading like a current through my core and outward, until my whole body was engulfed. I couldn’t help but arch into him, pressing closer. He met my lips in a deep, consuming kiss.
My legs folded back, leaving me exposed, vulnerable to the air.
He nudged at my entrance and murmured, “This is why.”
Heat bloomed across my cheeks. I licked his lips, and he lowered his head, bracing my waist as he pushed in, slowly, carefully, overcoming resistance, filling me inch by inch. When we were joined completely, his breath hitched, the sound drawn out like a blossom shedding its petals, like the soul of a falling cherry blossom whispering farewell.
My body, filled, longed for ruin like a moth rushing to the flame.
The wide windows couldn’t contain the boundless Sancta Faylia beyond. The ancient bell tower sighed, its deep chimes rolling out in steady, soul-marking beats.
Lucifer moved with reverence, as if enacting a sacred rite.
The wind chimes spun in the golden breeze.
Each full withdrawal, each complete return—again, again—sated nothing of our greedy hunger.
He gazed at me, intense and tender. “Shall I go faster?”
I nodded, gripping his hands.
His smile could topple empires.
The pace built, gradual but shocking in its force each time.
Every thrust struck deep, shattered my heart, stirred my soul.
There was too much bliss, so much that even if I offered my body, my soul, my everything, it could not contain it.
Just as I thought I might faint, he slowed, still joined to me, lifting me to straddle his lap, rocking me gently.
“Don’t tense up,” he whispered. “Breathe. Think of your happiest memory. Imagine flying.”
I whispered in his ear, “What’s your happiest memory?”
He kissed the edge of my ear, mischievous. “Not telling.”
“Then I won’t tell you mine either,” I pouted.
But I knew. This was my happiest moment.
He kissed my shoulder, lifted my legs over his arms, and quickened his rhythm once more. Milk mingled with white heat, dripping into the mist that never lifted.
There was no pain, only wave after wave that stole my breath and left me powerless.
I gasped, unable to hold it back, until at last a moan escaped me.
I cried out, breath ragged. “Are you trying to kill me?!”
His breathing shook every so slightly. Then he silenced me with a devouring kiss.
The chimes spun wild, their clashing the cry of spirit and flesh.
Half-lidded, I gazed at the brilliant imperial capital beyond, the grandest place in all of Heaven, my mind blank except for my broken sobs at his lips, my whispered “I love you”s.
He answered at once, and still it felt endless.
He filled me with sweetness, with bliss that numbed my limbs.
All that remained was the music of bodies colliding, and the clear chime of bells.
The world danced—a pool of lotus blossoms, a sky of scattered holy light.
This wasn’t an end.
It was merely one of the countless moments of rapture in our all-too-brief time together in Heaven.
Afterward, we held each other close, whispering about trivial tidbits. Lucifer had always loved the Demon Realm, a fact known in Heaven. He was especially fond of its windmills, and of the vivid, despairing mañjusaka that bloomed there. I laughed and teased him, saying he must have a saboteur’s soul at heart. He smirked and playfully smacked my butt. I smacked him back. He returned the favor. I hit him again. He hit me again. At last, to punish me, he grabbed my wrists and pulled me down against him. I kissed him; he kissed me. I kissed him again; before long, the fire between us rekindled…
What frustrated me most at first was his constant underestimation of my prowess. He was always saying my stamina wasn’t enough, that I shouldn’t be so reckless. But I never listened. I couldn’t go long before I wanted him again. When he slowed down, I begged him to go faster; when he sped up, I begged him to slow down. And when that wasn’t enough, I demanded his hands work elsewhere—tighter, looser, faster, slower. Playing the little emperor felt incredible… until two days later, when I realized I was a dumbass. I tried to stand and was shocked to find my legs useless. My poor soldier down below ached so badly it felt like it might fall off.
“Lucifer, you monster!” I cried. Lucifer only took my battered little general in hand and stroked it gently, like patting a child’s head. “Don’t be sad, Little Lightning,” he murmured.
Upon hearing that nickname, I nearly punched him.
My soldier’s true name was Thor, God of Thunder, because whenever the thunder god rose, the world would tremble. But ever since I’d been with Lucifer, somehow my Thor always seemed to finish far too quickly. Lucifer had simply renamed him Little Lightning, the gravest insult to my manhood.
And yet, despite that, the Lucifer at this time, though sometimes playfully wicked, was so gentle, so kind it left me helpless. In the modern world, there’s something called a “good person card,” and I think it was invented for people like him. I began to complain that a lover shouldn’t be so perfect, that I could forgive him a few flaws. He asked if I was happy. I said yes. He said he was happy too. And that was that.
Sometimes, bathed in the golden light of Sancta Faylia, I would gaze at his face, at those pale golden brows, that fair skin, those almost-transparent sky-blue eyes, and I would think the same thing every time: This is what an angel looks like. There could be no one more angelic than him.
It was because everything in that moment was too beautiful that I never imagined how he might fall. I never let myself picture the scene, far in the future, where that same man—who had once been so gentle, who even in passion thought of himself second—would one day tear my clothes apart before a crowd of demons, ignore my fury and curses, and force himself on me.
If only, in that moment, I’d had the eyes of God to see the future…
I would have cherished him more.
…………
The night before I was to meet God, I fluttered restlessly by the window, so anxious I could hardly breathe. Beneath the rear window of the Hall of Splendor, the drifting clouds were so thin and clear I could see the shadows of water high above, the Milky Way stretching across the night sky. Star-dust shimmered, slowly and steadily lighting the dark with its ancient rhythm.
Above that splendor of light and darkness, Sancta Faylia still burned with boundless radiance.
Beside me stood a tall stand, taller than I was. Suspended at its peak was the massive golden egg Kongo had given Lucifer. Its color was dark, yet it gleamed brilliantly as it turned, swaying in the air as if ready to burst at any moment.
I turned to Lucifer, who was still working late. “Is that thing about to explode? Otherwise why wouldn’t it stop spinning?”
Lucifer ruffled my hair. “Of course not. I’ve sealed it with a spell.”
I made a small noise of acknowledgment, circled the window a few more times, and finally wandered back to his side, watching him pore over those incomprehensible documents, texts where I knew every character but couldn’t make sense of a single sentence. “You work so hard every day. Maybe you should teach me a bit. I might be able to help.”
Lucifer shook his head gently. “This is my duty.”
“I’m meeting God tomorrow.”
“Don’t be nervous. He’s not going to eat you.”
I fell silent for a moment. “I heard the work in Heaven is always handed up layer by layer. Who gives you what you read?” I nudged him; he shifted over slightly on his wide chair, making room for me to squeeze in beside him.
Lucifer glanced at me. “Who do you think?”
“The Archangels?”
“Smart.”
“My great Commander of the Archangels… I’m going to meet God tomorrow…”
Lucifer couldn’t help but laugh. “I never knew you could be such a chatterbox.”
“What, you annoyed?”
“No. I like it.”
“Right, right, everything about me is just great. You’re busy—I’m off to bed.”
“Not in the mood tonight?”
“Not tonight. You work first.”
Lucifer smiled. As I turned to leave, I couldn’t help glancing back. He was still leaning against the chair, still smiling at me.
My mind went blank. I strode back, hugged him from behind. “I won’t tire you out tomorrow… but tonight, maybe just…”
Lucifer waved at the angels at the door, took off his gloves, and as they left, lifted me onto the desk. “You won’t tire me.”
I laughed, hooking myself around him.
The next morning, Lucifer helped dress me. We exchanged a smile, kissed once, twice, three times… kisses turned to touches, clothes fell away as fast as they had been put on. Just as we fell back onto the bed, someone yelled from below, “My God, Your Highness—haven’t you two done it enough these past few days?!”
Lucifer rose slightly, and I flipped over to peer down. Azazel and Samael stood there, staring up at us. Lucifer calmly dressed me, still kissing me between words: “It’s never enough.”
Samael called, “Your Highness, why’d you choose this little roasted chicken?”
Azazel grinned wickedly. “More like a roasted chicken that also got burned all over.”
I grabbed a pillow and flung it at them. Below, chaos erupted.
Samael dusted himself off. “Heaven’s number one savage roasted chicken.”
Azazel added, “I told you, our boss has unique taste.”
“I don’t need you two meddling in me and my wife’s business!” I roared.
They froze.
Lucifer asked, “What did you just call me?”
I glared at him. “Wife!”
“Husband.”
“Wife!”
…
Samael muttered, “Azazel, do you think His Highness has changed a bit since being with that chicken?”
Azazel said, “I think he started changing the moment he decided to go after him—always smiling for no reason.”
Lucifer asked lightly, “What was that?”
Azazel coughed. “We’re here to escort Lord Roasted Chicken to the Sanctum.”
Pillows rained down; they fled at light speed.
Lucifer, with his unique status, went ahead before me to the Sanctum. Samael and Azazel led me after him.
From a distance, the Palaces seemed like three mighty structures pressed together. Only as we left the Hall of Splendor did I realize that vast squares lay between them. The great gates of the Sanctum—central, left, and right—were built of romanesque pillars and waterfalls. We entered through the right, passing through the curtain of water into the square.
The bells groaned, their hollow chime rising from the square’s tower, like a sigh carried from a distant world. A lonely wind rattled the glass windows, as if beginning an ancient funeral hymn.
Bathed in endless gold, the Sanctum pierced the clouds, climbing into infinity.
The grand hall was cruciform in style, with seven protruding porticoes. The long nave could hold tens of thousands at once. A carpet of pale gold extended in a Latin cross, the central dome rising high above. Columns lined the walls, stretching so far skyward you could scarcely see their tops. To stand there was to feel as small as an ant beneath the heavens. The walls and dome gleamed with vibrant mosaics and stained glass, intricate beyond words (1).
Seraph children flew in pairs, each pair bearing a shell-shaped holy water font of mother-of-pearl, its liquid shining like the tears of the sun.
Before me rose a gate as tall as the sky itself, flanked by carved columns entwined with angels, dividing into seven great avenues. Through it, the hall burst with angels in flight, in the heart of Sancta Faylia’s radiance, the most blinding light of all.
Inside, voices thundered in praise, wave upon wave. I froze until Samael nudged me. “It’s alright. Pilgrimages are always like this.” I swallowed hard, pressing on, too nervous now for words.
Faintly, the chorus rose:
Holy, holy, holy— God of all hosts.
The instant my foot crossed the threshold, light spilled out so fiercely I had to close my eyes.
The voices swelled. Louder, stronger, perfectly in unison.
When I opened my eyes again, I realized this wasn’t just a hall. There was no edge I could see. The milky white floor shimmered gold beneath the flood of light.
Before me, seraphs soared, scattering holy water and flowers.
I had never seen so many of Heaven’s highest angels; I was awestruck.
The Seraphim encircled the throne, their holy fans and flaming short swords in hand, waving, soaring, their voices rising in mighty hymns of praise. So powerful was their song that the very thresholds trembled, and the Sanctum filled with sacred smoke (2).
Behind the throne stood the Seven Great Archangels, steadfast in their vigil.
And upon either side of the throne sat the Lord (3) and Lucifer.
God (4) was seated high and lifted up; the train of his silver hair and robe filled his throne (5).
Author’s notes (translated):
(1) Adapted from 《天主教的圣地——梵蒂冈》 (The Catholic Holy Land — Vatican City), by Guangxi Tourism Outbound Network.
改编自《天主教的圣地——梵蒂冈》，作者：广西旅游出境网，[Online]：http://www.longquanzs.org/articledetail.phpid=2891
(2) Isaiah 6:4
At the sound of their voices the doorposts and thresholds shook and the temple was filled with smoke.
(5) Isaiah 6:1.
In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord, high and exalted, seated on a throne; and the train of his robe filled the temple.
Translator’s note:
(3) Jesus, God the Son
(4) God the Father
Author: Tav Tav
Translating
The Right Wing of God, the one seated at the right hand of the Most High.
