Zhong Nian wanted to reach for the dagger at his waist, but his arms were pinned and he couldn’t move. When he tried to drive his knee upward, the man seemed to see through his intent and wedged a leg between Zhong Nian’s thighs a second before, while using his other leg to suppress Zhong Nian’s attempted attack.
As soon as Zhong Nian lifted his leg to struggle, the other seized the opening, hoisting him up entirely with a thigh.
Losing his balance, with his legs unable to close and his limbs completely restrained, Zhong Nian became prey thoroughly subdued beneath the beast’s grasp.
He glared at the other in fury, his cheeks flushed red from anger, grinding his molars as he warned with full menace: “I won’t let you get away with this.”
Little did he know that this appearance only fueled the man’s desire to torment him.
“You always notice so quickly. Was my disguise that unconvincing? Or can you recognize me no matter what form I take?”
In the blink of an eye, the “Masked Man” before him transformed into another handsome face that wasn’t unfamiliar, with black goat horns extending and pressing against Zhong Nian’s forehead.
The horizontal pupils reflected the youth’s pale yet still lushly beautiful face, conveying a sense of delight.
Zhong Nian sneered at him: “A thing that’s not human can never act human, no matter how hard it tries.”
The Goat Demon laughed, unable to stop once he started, his narrow eyes squinting with overflowing wickedness: “Fine… I won’t play this boring game with you anymore.”
His high nose tip pressed against Zhong Nian’s averted cheek, chasing the source of the richest fragrance, sniffing deeply in the hollow of his neck, brushing it with his lips, revealing sharp white fangs, and grinding against the spot hiding the major artery.
There, blood flowed, the aroma overflowing, enough to drive the devil mad with desire.
When he spoke again, his magnetic, seductive voice grew even more hoarse, laced with barely suppressed panting: “Let’s play the most interesting game directly.”
Zhong Nian turned his face away desperately, stretching his neck to evade the approach, gritting his teeth as he cursed: “Who wants to play with a stinking devil? Get lost!”
These words, devoid of any real threat, only provoked the other to press even further.
Soon, intermittent fragmented sounds echoed from the desolate rear of the church.
The wet sounds of a tongue stirring in the mouth, the clacking of teeth amid struggles, and the youth’s pitiful, enticing whimpers and moans.
These combined into an enchanting, lascivious melody that utterly shattered the church’s solemn sanctity.
As his tongue was wrapped and sucked, Zhong Nian thought dazedly: Why could this devil sneak into the church…
Did it eat the Masked Man and take his body?
No, that shouldn’t be possible…
His upper palate was teased back and forth by the tongue tip, waves of tingling numbness spreading, severing Zhong Nian’s train of thought as his senses refocused on the entwined lips and tongues.
Perhaps devils had the ability to devour souls. Zhong Nian felt his mind drifting away, his brain unable to function, melting into a puddle of soft liquid, mouth agape for the plunder.
Numbness like electric currents coursed through every capillary, robbing control of his body, making him tremble uncontrollably, involuntarily emitting shameful sounds amid the strange sensations.
It was impossible to tell if this was truly the devil’s feeding method—what was being drawn away seemed only the saliva constantly secreted in his mouth.
By the end, Zhong Nian had the illusion that his mouth had been sucked dry, his tongue numb as if it weren’t his own, yet the devil suppressing him remained unsatisfied, indulging greedily in teasing the sensitive spots inside, trying to coax out more sweet flavors.
After a long while, the devil’s scarlet long tongue withdrew from the youth’s mouth with a relish for the marrow, reluctantly dragging the youth’s tongue tip along with a sticky, intimate sound, pulling out a long strand of silver thread.
At this point, Zhong Nian was completely drained. Even when the devil no longer held him encircled, he could only obediently lean against the wall, sitting on the devil’s thigh.
His eyes were unfocused, physiological tears from who-knows-when streaking his cheeks, head lolled to the side, tongue still protruding unable to retract, its reddened, slightly swollen tip holding one end of the silken drool, exhaling hot, fragrant breaths.
This vivid, alluring sight reignited the addiction the devil had just suppressed, his empty abdomen burning, hunger and lust surging together in his lake-blue beastly eyes.
He slid one hand toward the youth’s lower abdomen, about to seize that tempting tongue tip again, when his massive body paused.
The devil turned his head, eyes shifting to the side.
Not far away, a half-person-tall Black Goat stood silently, its dark horizontal pupils fixed on everything.
…
Half an hour earlier, inside the cathedral.
Under the stained glass windows’ reflections, the goat carvings on the walls and the goat skull at the front resembled bizarre, murky symbols from ancient oil paintings, watching coldly like they had souls as the man in the hall debased himself.