CHAPTER 457: DON’T YOU EVER CHANGE

Chapter 457 – Don’t You Ever Change

Her legs wrapped around his waist like instinct. Her back slammed into the wall. The water poured over them both.

And then—he entered her.

Slow. Deep.

One push.

All the way in.

Sira choked on a gasp, fingers digging into his shoulders.

"Fck—"

"Still prideful?" he asked, mouth dragging over her ear, his voice like velvet against her nerves. "Still think you’re in control?"

"I’m riding your cock against a wall," she hissed. "I think we’re both winning."

He thrust up.

Hard.

Sira nearly bit his neck.

Water splashed louder. Their bodies slapped wetly. Every sound echoed off marble and steam. Her breath came fast, but her eyes locked on his. No fear. No hesitation.

Just greed.

Pure, perfect Pride.

Lux held her tighter.

And kept fucking her. Against the wall. Against reason. Against the ticking threat of time—because yeah, he still had to meet Naomi or Rava or sign something stupid in Hell’s Court. But right now?

He was only hers.

She rode him like it mattered. Because it did. Because maybe she wouldn’t get to do this if some divine bitch turned him into a feathered weapon.

Their moans tangled with the water. The pressure built fast. The tension snapped faster.

And when she came—her whole body shook, her voice cracked, and she bit his shoulder to keep from screaming too loud.

He came a second after. Deep inside. Hot. Flooding her with another claim she’d pretend to be offended by later.

The water kept raining.

The steam never left.

And Sira?

Sira didn’t let go.

Not even when her legs were too sore to stand.

Not even when his breath was still ragged.

Not even when he whispered,

"I still have to go."

She clung to him tighter.

"You go after you kiss me again."

He did.

And this time—this time, it wasn’t business.

It wasn’t Lust.

It wasn’t Pride.

It was Lux.

The real one. The one who tasted like desire but held her with reverence. The one who growled promises in her ear and still kissed her like she was something rare. Water ran down his skin like molten gold, like a blessing he refused to accept.

Sira leaned into him, chest pressed to his, legs tangled, breath trembling. Her body still ached with the echoes of pleasure, but her heart...

It clung to something deeper.

His hands were still on her—broad, warm palms trailing down her back like they were made for no one else. Her fingers splayed over his shoulders, tracing the edges of muscle she knew better than her own reflection.

"Lux..." she whispered, voice ragged but clear. "Don’t you ever change."

He blinked. His hand paused at her waist, grip softening as he looked down at her face—her flushed cheeks, the sharp glitter in her eyes even now.

Sira’s thumb brushed his cheekbone. "Don’t you dare shift toward the light, Lux. Don’t let them wash this away. This side of you..." Her voice cracked slightly, then steadied. "This infernal creature. This ruthless bastard. This greedy, calculating, frustrating man—"

She exhaled hard and kissed him again. Softer this time. Less heat. More anchor.

"I fell for that," she murmured against his lips. "Not some polished, holy version they want to cleanse into being. I love this side of you. The one that doesn’t pretend. The one that wants more. That fights for it."

Lux didn’t answer immediately. He leaned his forehead to hers. The water steamed between their skin. One drop rolled down her spine, and he followed it with a finger, idly, like tracing her soul.

Finally, he murmured, "Celestaria won’t change me."

"You can’t be sure," Sira whispered. "You don’t know what gods are capable of. Even the good ones."

"I know this," Lux said, voice low, grounding her. "I was born of Greed. The only one of my line. I didn’t choose this role—I was forged for it. I am the crown prince of want. Of ambition. Of hunger made flesh."

He tilted her chin up. "You think any light can purify that?"

Sira stared at him. Her mouth opened, then closed. Her throat bobbed.

"...No," she said eventually, half-smiling. "You’re too corrupted for that."

He smirked. "You say that like it’s a compliment."

"It is," she breathed. Then, a beat later—more vulnerable. "Just... promise me. If they try to change you... if she tries..."

Lux pulled her fully into his chest again. The thrum of his heartbeat filled her ear. His lips pressed to her temple.

"They can try," he murmured. "But they’ll fail. I know who I am. And I know who I belong to."

She pulled back enough to meet his eyes. "Who do you belong to?"

Lux gave her a look that wasn’t cocky or smirking. Just true.

"You," he said. "Tonight. Tomorrow. Even when we fight. Even when I piss you off with politics or diplomacy or—"

"—or invite celestial women who smell like lavender and self-righteousness into our house?"

He laughed. "Exactly."

She snorted. Then leaned up and kissed his nose. "Fine. But if you grow a halo, I’m shaving it off myself."

Lux arched an eyebrow. "And if I start glowing?"

"I’ll cover you in glitter so no one notices."

He laughed again, deeper this time. Her hand slid over his chest, and her body pressed closer. Still hot, still molded to his, but now just resting. Holding. Grounding.

The shower ran over them both, washing away the night’s tension—but not the warmth. That stayed. That lingered in the way she tucked her head under his chin, and he wrapped his arms around her waist like she’d disappear otherwise.

"I hate that I feel this way," she muttered.

Lux ran his fingers slowly through her wet hair. "Why?"

"Because I’m Pride," she said. "We don’t get soft."

"You’re not soft."

"I am with you," she whispered.

He didn’t answer that. Just held her tighter.

Minutes passed. The water ran. Their bodies stayed close.

And for a moment—just a moment—nothing else mattered. Not the goddesses. Not the politics. Not the expectations or the threats or the idea of redemption waiting behind every diplomatic smile.

Just two demons, standing in steam and silence.

And the unspoken promise between them.