In which Glasya and Fierna share a sweet treat.
Glasya lay curled against Fierna’s side, tracing the glowing stretchmarks decorating her stomach—little embers danced in the wake of her fingers, enough to sting but not to burn. She sighed.
“I’m hungry.”
“What for?” Fierna’s claws scraped idly up and down her back. Glasya purred at the attention, and thought. She wasn’t really hungry per se; Archdevils didn’t get that way, not for food at any rate. But she had the kind of idle craving that accompanied the pleasant boredom following several hours of enjoyable exertion. She wanted to sink her teeth into something, wanted decadence on her tongue, wanted to devour something precious just because she could.
She wanted chocolate. Specifically, she wanted Neverwintian chocolate, because they’d finally started making it there again, and there was something about it that satisfied in a way mortal food usually didn’t.
“Fifi, do you still have that Aspect on the Material Plane?”
“Not since I brought you back the Staff.”
“Ugh, and those precocious mortals destroyed my summoning circle in Neverwinter Wood. It’ll take too long to get my Material Aspect back there if I recall her.” So many irons in so many fires; she really ought to delegate more. Glasya flopped onto her back with a huff.
“What do you want from Neverwinter?”
“Chocolate.”
“Don’t you have that chocolatier your Adorants found for the Masquerade down in the kitchens still?”
Glasya let out a squeal and flung herself on top of Fierna. “I completely forgot! Fifi, you’re a genius!”
She planted a kiss square on Fierna’s mouth, tasting brimstone, then sprang to her feet. “I’ll be right back.” She flicked her eyes lasciviously over Fierna’s naked form. “Don’t go anywhere.”
It turned out that the chocolatier was having some sort of crisis about how effective the Infernal ingredients Glasya had supplied her with were—and had apparently been working through said crisis by baking non-stop. Glasya’s pantry was full to bursting with chocolate in dozens of forms, several of which might have been considered war crimes on the Material Plane. She piled a copper tray high with treats, and skipped, delighted, back to her chambers.
“Mm, these are good.” Fierna popped another of the small, round chocolates into her mouth. “What did she make them with again?”
“Pure agony.” Glasya bit into a caramel with relish—the reddish filling oozed across her tongue with intent. “From Minauros.”
Fierna scowled, the flames of her hair flaring to blue-white heat. “You know that mine ought to be in my territory.”
Glasya patted her thigh. The action seared the skin off her palm.
“The borders might shift,” she said. Her skin healed with a flicker of copper sparks, and a sly grin curled her lips. “You know. When I’m done with my project.”
Fierna’s smile returned; her flames dimmed to their usual low burn, all anger extinguished on the turn of a moment. “Well, that’s alright then.”
“You know I’d never forget about my sweet little Fierna.”
“Little?” Fierna grabbed Glasya by the waist and hauled her into her lap. “Bold words for the Archduke who made herself bite-sized this millennia.”
Glasya wrapped her legs around the soft expanse of Fierna’s waist. There was just so much of her in her current form, it was positively delicious. “Does that mean you’re planning on eating me?”
In reply, Fierna seared a blazing lip-print over her pulse. Glasya gasped as her skin sizzled, and let Fierna push her down onto the bed. The remaining chocolates scattered to the floor, forgotten in the wake of far sweeter tastes.