"THE ISLAND IS A CROCODILE?! Wait a minute, what of El Cabana?" The syrupy breeze through the jungle could do nothing to ease Eotigan’s raised interest. Awareness filled his senses. His inner self demanded he lock in with Inaia, but his [subserviena] was enjoying herself far too much in the sauna on the other side of the forest to bridge in. This was one of the few times Eotigan liked her being confined to his skull.

Eotigan quizzed Najwa with both his words and eyes. Everytime he thought he’d finally settled into easy conversation with the tattooed medium, there she went raising the bar again.

Najwa held up a hand to calm him, reading his tensed broad shoulders, as she responded,

"El Cabana is the village. MOTHER DIAMANTE carries the island."

"—and this Mother Diamante is the crocodile?" Eotigan drawled.

Najwa nodded, flashing him perfect opal teeth. He tried not to tumble into her smile—and cleavage as he regarded her from his side. From his vantage point, Najwa’s robe hid little. Plus he knew she was fully nude beneath. Eotigan growled, focusing on NOT the supple peaks of her chest.

His stalwart education in Hel—probably the one genuine gift Lilith had dished him—lent him a pretty great library up there to draw from concerning things of the surface: the mortal plane. But even he had to admit he had never, not by the fucking Horns of Beelzebub, guessed that this gorgeous Tropicana was the back of a fucking Kaiju when his warship had run into her shores.

A damn too-good-to-be-true moment right there.

Najwa could see his firing thoughts through beautiful lava pupils and drew closer to him; their shoulders almost touched. She explained with a velvety voice, "...that’s why we’re never found out, because our island is never in one spot. Mother Diamante is one of the last Tetramorphs in existence. She is over eight hundred feet long, larger than even you are conceiving right now. Her feet are sunken in the ocean bed. She moves with the rotation of the moon. And we sacrifice to her every ninth Lunar Cycle.

It is the blinking of her eye that causes the Heaving of the Hut. The hill is her eyelid."

Eotigan listened quietly.

It all made sense now—El Cabana’s mysterious appearance on the horizon, the literal cult worship festival, the strangely complexioned villagers, the Heaving Hut. But it also didn’t fill the SENSE. Eotigan wanted to hurl a bunch of obscenities. Why? Because no matter the region of this plane he voyaged in search of nirvana and escape, some type of warped, super-abled reality always seemed to find him. Just his luck, to dock on fucking crocodile island.

Nonetheless, all his mouth found to say to Najwa was, "you know, just, y-you coulda told me that we were dancing on the back of a Kaiju, that’s all."

Najwa giggled at his tone of voice. It wasn’t his words so much as how he said it.

Subconsciously, Eotigan was in shock: ’I fucked on a giant crocodile. I FUCKED on a giant croc!’

Najwa let him ruminate for a while. She watched him closely, like Nobleman, Lord Yurilh had studied the nubile body of his housemaid when his Lady wife was off to the Knitters’, before the great scandal broke throughout the District. Najwa was seduced by the man. His profile from her view was distinguished. A perfect lover to romp with. Though he had made his position in that regard abundantly clear, Najwa yet fired her last shot, "if we’re still not having sex... you need to resume your mission."

She enunciated the first part. Eotigan raised his head, blowing right through the part she’d stressed.

"How do you know about my [Mission]s?"

Najwa sighed. Of all the honey-colored men of El Cabana, she had to get wet for a visiting demon who couldn’t take a hint. Her vagina was a bitch.

"Hold on now," she held up a hand, "before you go choking me again," though she wished he would, "I know only that you’ve got Missions to act on. But of their exact nature, I know nothing. Okay, we good?"

She gave a shaky smile to his reinvigorated eyes, aware she was dealing with a guarded prince; Eotigan must’ve had his heart imprisoned by a crown of thorns at this point. And so Najwa was surprised—and bashful when he murmured low, "I’m sorry. We good." He had made up his mind sometime ago that he wasn’t going to fuck this caramel beauty of the jungle, but he figured talking some more to her wouldn’t hurt. After all his girls had to still be at the warm baths or whatever—Inaia was again unavailable to a [psyche bridge]. "You’re right, witch," he told Najwa, noticing the pink in her cheeks; she’d gotten used to him calling her witch, she liked it even.

"...I do have a [Mission] in the works. I recall it’s something about a Governor’s wife, vaguely. My consort has all the details."

"And you have three consorts?" Najwa cleared her throat.

Eotigan enjoyed a small smile. The sweet medium was definitely jealous. Naughtily, he decided to prick her more. "I have a harem, if that’s what you’re asking."

Najwa made a small moan and turned her face away. Eotigan’s smile had grown. He unfolded his legs, gently rising to his feet. "I’ll be on my way, witch," he said, "and don’t worry, I’ll be giving your Chieftain a nice review, even though I don’t really rock with the croc thing."

"Ah! That’s sad. I love reptiles." Najwa offered.

Eotigan’s returning smile chased hers. "I bet you do."

He started for the door with Najwa still on the floors. He’d barely taken four steps when her cute voice came from behind, "uh, excuse me demon, who’s gonna make payment?"

Eotigan turned. "Really, witch? You’re gonna bill me?"

"Standard procedure."

"Nope...I’m pretty sure it’s because I refused you the dick."

"EXCUSE YOU!" Najwa coughed and laughed in the same second, "I can keep a fine line between business and pleasure. And you might be hot, but you’re still a devil."

"So, you’re racist too? Hmm? I could not have guessed that one."

"N-No...what! I’m not RACIST. But everybody knows your kind are responsible for 70% genocide of the Nine Realms, not to mention the fall of Capitol." Najwa was trying hard to explain herself and not seem flustered, especially with smouldering amber devil eyes on her; Eotigan looked like he was really enjoying himself. He had caught her in her lie. She knew this. Maybe she was going against her Chieftain’s boon of free [Mystic] treatment to Eotigan because he hadn’t laid her down with what she was sure was a satisfying, fat penis. Maybe she demanded he pay for the palm-reading because at this point, she was just desperate.

Maybe she was hoping to the ocean gods he’d change his stupid mind at the last moment and just fu—

"How much?" Eotigan’s bass broke her marination.

Najwa gulped, pulling at all the moxie within her; she knew it was now or never. "Not coins, my beloved demon. Drop your breeches."

Eotigan thought there must be moss in his ears. "You’re bullshitting, right?" 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺

Najwa didn’t even blink. "No, I shit you not," she pushed up on the floors to her knees and rested back on her calves, "for some reason you don’t think I deserve your cock..."

"That’s not what I sai—"

"...well," Najwa soldiered on through his attempt to clarify, "I think I at least deserve a look. If you are not going to feed me your cock, then let me see it. I know it’s big. You’ve got three bitches under your fucking thumb. That’s the only payment I’ll accept. Plus, you owe me for walking in here during my private time. So, Prince of Darkness, DROP YOUR FUCKING PANTS. Let me see that dick..." Against her better judgement, Najwa crawled from her place by the tiny reading to the door, to the foot of his legs, "please...show me."

Najwa wasn’t sure she could handle a rejection at this point. She was vibrating all over, her full body alive with pure need.

Eotigan said nothing else. How could he? He looked into the shaman’s leafy eyes, recognizing a deep hunger. A sinful hunger. Eotigan put up his hands to his doublet and began unbuttoning the coat. Najwa urged him on her knees with soft talk: "oh yes, show me. Show me all that male. Ohh fuck yes. Let me see you in your full glory...all your majesty, my prince."

Eotigan was near bashful. If he wasn’t already hard from earlier, all her worship did him in.

His loin-guard dropped and his pants came down. Eotigan stepped out of the clothes.

"OH. MY. GODDESS!" Najwa’s eyes expanded wide. "BY OZYMANDIAS! You are all MAN, my prince..."

Her pupils were so large. Eotigan saw himself in the mirror of it—shorn, naked, satanic. He was sculpted, a god of the abyss. And his dick was large and fat now, piped up from his crotch, his pudendal veins roaming the robust shaft.

"You’re hard. You so hard and thick for me, my prince." Najwa licked her lips, her pink tongue shiny, ready to taste. She pushed off her calfs in her kneeling position. She still was on her knees; her face came up to his naked, mighty member. The shadow of Eotigan cast in the Hut was slanted and showed distinct four horns—two greater than the other pair—which his tangible self didn’t show. He didn’t want Najwa fainting on him so he kept the sprouts hidden, only seen in his [Umbrage] personae.

Najwa had put her face under his balls and was smelling him, a witch turned on beyond reason.

She grabbed to his muscled thighs and opened her mouth, about to suck him into a passion neither of them could that much handle. Eotigan immediately grabbed to her hair, stopping her assault before it could begin.

"Consider yourself paid, witch." He slapped the corner of her mouth with a dark smile. He put on his clothes. He turned to the door the final time, and then he left.

Najwa closed her mouth ten seconds after his exit. She’d been that close to making him change his mind. She still hadn’t gotten a piping, but at least now she had a picture to work with. The sight of Eotigan’s mighty, cucumber-like penis was seared into her brain. On her own in the quiet room once again, the curvaceous shaman relaxed against the silver mat, flat on her back, and opened her legs. Then she put the picture—and her fingers—to work.

No sooner had Eotigan hastily left her presence did he hear the renewed, breathy moaning from the Hut. He was halfway down the hill, or rather, Mother Diamante’s Eye, when he turned back to look, "Damn, that is one horny witch."

At the foot of the hill, was Hervor. She was still waiting.

Eotigan filthily thought that if any woman deserved a good, jungle pipe-down, it was beautiful, mute, forty-year old Hervor, with the long, long, silver hair. Just as he came up behind the bush where she rested, Eotigan finally received a pinging on his infernal system.

[DING!]

[Psyche Bridge ENABLED—]

To himself, he thought, ’really, Inaia? I was this close two seconds ago to having my dick sucked by another bitch. A big-breasted, big-ass bitch.’