The imp didn't follow me. Even so, I could still feel her gaze pressed against my back, sharp and curious, lingering there until the drifting crimson haze finally swallowed her small silhouette and erased it from view. That sensation didn't fade immediately. It clung, like the afterimage of heat against closed eyes.
The First Layer spread out before me, vast and indulgent, like a city assembled from sin given physical form and intention given permission. Streets of black stone twisted and curved at angles that made my eyes ache if I stared too long, geometry that rejected common sense. A soft crimson glow poured from unseen sources, staining everything in red, while glowing embers drifted lazily through the air as if Hell itself were exhaling.
Demons moved openly through those streets. Some were naked without a hint of embarrassment. Others wore scraps of fabric that barely qualified as clothing. Hands roamed freely across unfamiliar bodies. Lips met skin without hesitation. Moans mixed with laughter, with shouts, with the sound of fists colliding and bodies hitting stone. Pleasure and violence existed side by side, tangled together, neither pretending to be anything else.
Lust wasn't concealed here. It wasn't dressed up or apologized for. It saturated the air and pressed against my skin from every direction, a constant, wordless invitation that made it clear what this place expected from anyone who entered.
I still felt rock hard.
Not painfully. Not urgently.
Just present.
A steady reminder of where I was and what this realm wanted from me.
I kept walking, boots striking stone in a steady rhythm, forcing myself forward until that constant pressure finally eased, until the air stopped clawing quite so insistently at my senses.
That was how I knew I had crossed the boundary into Limbo.
The change came in layers. The heat was the first thing to fall away, like a hand withdrawing from my skin. Then the scent shifted. Sweat, sex, and smoke gave way to something older and quieter. Paper. Dust. Ink that had soaked into pages centuries ago. The red light thinned and faded, replaced by something neutral and steady, colorless and calm.
Ahead of me, a massive structure rose from the ground.
It was carved from pale stone and lined with endless shelves, its scale dwarfing the streets behind me.
The Library of Limbo.
The doors stood open, as if my arrival had been anticipated.
Inside, silence ruled with absolute authority. Rows upon rows of books stretched farther than I could see, shelves stacked so high they vanished into shadow. The air was cool against my bare skin, soothing after the relentless stimulation of the First Layer. I rolled my neck slowly, muscles cracking, suddenly aware of how tightly wound I had been without realizing it.
"You carry Lust with you," a woman's voice said from somewhere among the shelves. "That's dangerous in a place like this."
She stepped into view, emerging from between the towering rows of books.
Lilith.
She was tall and pale, her posture flawless, her presence composed to the point of intimidation. Long black hair flowed down her back, framing a face that was beautiful in a cold, ancient way that felt carved rather than born. She wore a fitted black dress that clung to her body with dubious intent, fabric stretched tight over heavy breasts and wide hips. A high slit revealed one long thigh with every step she took.
No underwear.
I didn't need to check.
Hell had a way of making such things obvious.
Her eyes traveled over my body slowly, openly, without shame or pretense, before finally meeting mine. She didn't flinch. She didn't look away.
"And yet," I said, my voice steady, "you let me in."
A faint smile touched her lips, restrained and knowing. "Because you arrived alive."
I stepped closer. The Library didn't resist me. There was no invisible wall, no subtle pressure urging me back. The space accepted me without question, as though I belonged here. That alone told me how unusual my presence was.
"Name's Alex," I said. "I'm new. I'm bored. And I intend to enjoy myself."
Her gaze dipped, just briefly, to the bulge straining against my jeans before returning to my face. "This is neutral ground. No violence. No claims."
"For now," I replied.
She began to circle me, heels clicking softly against the stone floor, each step measured and unhurried. I felt her proximity like pressure against my spine, an awareness that sharpened my senses. As she passed, her fingers brushed my arm, light but deliberate, a test rather than an accident. My skin tingled where she touched me, nerves flaring in response.
"You reek of dominance," she murmured, her voice low. "Hell will respond to that."
"Good," I said without hesitation.
She stopped directly in front of me, close enough that I could see the subtle rise and fall of her chest. The urge to touch her surfaced immediately, raw and unfiltered. I wanted to know whether she would allow it. Or whether she would stop me.
"You may stay," Lilith said. "Observe. Learn. But bring nothing violent into my halls."
I leaned in just enough to make the distance between us intimate, to let the implication hang in the air. "And if I bring women?"
Her lips curved upward, amusement glinting in her eyes. "Then the Library will grow livelier."
She stepped back, the moment dismissed as cleanly as it had begun. "Rest. The First Layer will test you soon enough."
As she vanished between the shelves, swallowed by rows of ancient knowledge, I smiled to myself.
A base.
Neutral ground.
A place to bring my spoils.
Hell was already starting to feel like home.
—
I claimed a corner of the Library that night without ceremony.
No bed manifested itself for me. No servants appeared from the shelves. Limbo didn't provide comfort or convenience. It simply allowed presence. I sat on one of the long reading tables carved from pale stone, leaned back on my hands, and let the stillness seep slowly into my bones. After the constant pressure of Lust grinding against my senses, the calmness felt wrong in an almost indecent way.
It didn't last.
Soft footsteps approached from between the shelves. They were not Lilith's. Too light. Too uncertain. I caught her scent before I saw her. Heat. Sweat. Arousal barely held in check, like a flame cupped in shaking hands.
The imp from earlier peeked around the edge of a shelf.
She had cleaned herself up, at least to some extent. Her red skin still held a faint sheen, and the straps crossing her body were pulled tighter now, arranged to frame her breasts with obvious intent. Her nipples remained hard, refusing to calm. Her tail curled and uncurled behind her, restless, as if it moved on impulses separate from her own.
"You followed me," I said.
She flinched at the sound of my voice, then forced herself straight again. "You didn't kill me."
"I didn't need to."
She stepped closer, her eyes flicking down toward my lap before darting away again. "You don't belong down there. Lust will chew you up."
A smirk pulled at my mouth. "You're welcome to try again."
Her breath caught. I saw her throat move as she swallowed. "I'm too scared to try."
The blunt honesty of that answer caught me off guard. I patted the surface of the table in front of me. "Then talk."
She hesitated, weight shifting from foot to foot, then climbed up onto the table. She perched closer than necessary. Her thigh pressed against mine, heat bleeding through fabric. She shivered when I made no effort to move away.
"The First Layer is split," she said. "Factions. Brothels. Pleasure dens. Queens. They'll test you. Break you. Pleasure you until you forget who you are."
"Sounds educational."
She snorted before she could stop herself. "You're going to get yourself claimed."
I turned my head slowly and looked at her properly. Not just her body, but her tension. Small. Sharp. Feral in the way she held herself. Her chest rose and fell with each breath. Between her thighs, there was a wet shine she was clearly trying not to press together.
I reached out and cupped one of her breasts. She gasped, hands flying to grip the edge of the table. I squeezed gently, my thumb brushing over her pinkish bud. Her body arched on instinct before she could stop herself.
"Seems to me," I said evenly, "Hell claims whoever wins."
She didn't pull away. Her eyes fluttered shut for a brief second, then opened again, clearer than before.
"Name?" I asked.
"Rissa," she whispered.
I leaned in close enough that her breath stumbled against my cheek. "Rissa, I'm going to walk Lust. I'm going to beat its queens, claim them, and bring them back here."
Her tail slipped around my wrist, coiling tight.
"And me?" she asked quietly.
I smiled. "You can either watch or help."
She bit her lip, grinding her thigh against mine despite herself. "I hate you."
"Get in line."
She laughed softly, breathless, and didn't move away.
The Library didn't object.