Lilith

Next Morning.

Shirou slowly woke up, he was alone but the air still humming with the divine echo of Metatron’s presence.

The scent of her lingered in the room, His chest rose and fell in slow, steady rhythm.

He was about to climb off the bed to start his day.

And then—he felt it.

A presence.

Not holy. Not divine.

Sinful.

The atmosphere darkened, thickened. The air turned warm, humid, cloying with something like smoke and sweetness. Like incense made from forbidden things.

A slow click of heels echoed through the silence, deliberate and slow, each one a countdown. Shirou didn’t turn—not yet. He didn’t need to.

He could feel her.

Then a voice, sultry and smooth like silk dragged over bare skin, curled around him.

“Oh? Did I miss the angel’s little visit?”

His eyes cleared of sleep, and he turned.

She stood in the doorway, one hand lazily propped on the frame, the other brushing her hip. Tall and languid, Lilith was the very shape of wickedness incarnate.

Her silver hair spilled in long waves down her back and shoulders like a river of moonlight, a stark contrast against the inky black of the open jacket she wore. It wasn’t even trying to close—her chest was completely bare beneath it, every curve proudly exposed, the garment serving only to frame the temptation it failed to conceal. Black horns curved gracefully from either side of her head, smooth and gleaming.

Her eyes—pale green, catlike, and luminous—glinted with mischief and heat.

The only other thing covered hid her bottom was a thin black thong.

And confidence.

She stepped into the room like she owned it. Like she always had.

Shirou’s breath left him in a quiet exhale.

“Good Morning, Lilith.”

“Morning to my master.” Her smile deepened, sharp and teasing.

She took another step, the heels of her boots tapping softly against the floor, but her movements were soundless otherwise. A predator’s grace. Her eyes flicked around the room—still warm with Metatron’s fading presence.

“I can smell her on you,” Lilith said, licking her lower lip slowly. “So Pure, So holy."

"You wouldn't mind if I replace it with mine?" Lilith's voice was a seductive whisper that seemed to coil around Shirou, tightening its hold with every word.

She sailed closer, eyes gleamed with a hunger that was unmistakable.

"Go ahead,"

Shirou’s voice was a rasp, his throat suddenly dry as the desert at high noon. The mere suggestion from Lilith was like a siren’s call, impossible to resist.

Her gaze held him in place as she moved with the fluid grace of a serpent, slithering closer, and up the bed to him. She hovered over him, her body a living invitation.

"Your wish," she murmured, her breath a warm whisper, "is my command."

With a devilish smirk, Lilith leaned in, her horns brushing his abs as her long, nimble fingers reached up to cup the base of his shaft, her grip firm and insistent. Her mouth descended, her hot breath teasing him, making him ache with anticipation. He could feel the weight of her gaze, the intensity of her desire. And when she finally took him in, her lips sliding over the tip with the ease of a velvet glove, he gasped, his eyes rolling back in his head.

The sensation was heavenly and wicked all at once. Her mouth was a symphony of wet heat and pressure, her tongue swirling around him like a dance of sin. His hips jerked upward, seeking more, but she held firm, setting a pace that had him teetering on the edge of sanity. He reached up, his hands finding purchase on her horns, and she moaned, the vibration sending waves of pleasure through his entire body. They were warm to the touch, surprisingly smooth despite their sharp points, and as he gripped them, using them as handles, she took him deeper, her throat contracting around him.

He could feel her hunger, her need, and it only served to fuel his own. His fingers tightened around the horns, his knuckles white with the effort of not thrusting too hard, too fast. Lilith’s eyes remained locked on his, her own filled with a fiery passion that burned away any thought of holy purity. Her nails dug into his thighs, urging him to release, to let go of the last threads of his control.

Her mouth moved in a symphony of sucks and licks, each movement calculated to drive him wild. The sight of her, the feel of her, the smell of her—it was all too much. Shirou’s body was a coiled spring, tension winding tighter and tighter with every moment that passed. He could feel the beginnings of his release, a hot, pulsing need building in his core, demanding to be set free.

But Lilith wasn’t done with him yet. She pulled away, and his hands slipped off the handles (horns), and straddled his hips with the ease of a woman who knew exactly what she wanted. Her thighs, soft and powerful, framed his hips.

She tore away her thong— She could've just dematerialised it but didn't.

But she enjoyed the sound of it ripping—the way Shirou’s eyes narrowed at the sound.

Her hand wrapped around the base of him once more, guiding him to her wet entrance, and with a sinful smirk, she impaled herself slowly, her eyes never leaving his.

Shirou gripped her waist, her hips rolling in a motion that was as ancient as it was erotic. The room was filled with the sound of their mingled breaths, the wet slap of their bodies coming together. The scent of their desire grew stronger, mingling with the lingering holy aroma in a heady cocktail that was driving him insane.

Her breasts bounced with every movement, the nipples tight and begging for his touch. He couldn’t help but reach out, thumbing the sensitive peaks, feeling them harden even further under his ministrations. Lilith threw her head back with a gasp, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment before she opened them again, her gaze never leaving his.

Their rhythm grew more frantic, each thrust punctuated by a low groan or gasp from one or the other. The air was charged with lust, with the power of a demon’s hunger and a human’s need. Shirou could feel his climax approaching, a ravenous beast clawing at the bars of its cage, demanding to be let free. Lilith’s nails dug into his shoulders, leaving half-moon marks that burned with a sweet agony.

Her eyes, those piercing green orbs, never left his, the pupils dilated with desire. Her mouth was parted, and her breath came in shallow pants that matched the tempo of their union. He could see the muscles in her abdomen tighten with each movement, feel her wetness coating him as she slammed down onto him, again and again.

The sound of their flesh colliding filled the room. The bed rocked beneath them, the headboard slammed against the wall, echoing their frenzied pace. Sweat glistened on their skin.

And then—it happened.

Shirou’s orgasm hit him like a lightning bolt, searing through his veins with the intensity of a thousand suns. He roared, his hips bucking upward, driving himself into Lilith’s tight, quivering core. She matched his ferocity, her own climax crashing over her in a wave of ecstasy that made her entire body convulse around him.

Her eyes snapped open, locking onto his, and he could see the flames of hell burning in their depths, a reflection of her own satisfaction. They held each other there, suspended in that moment of absolute pleasure, their breaths mingling as the storm of their passion slowly subsided.