Incubus Master

[Veroe]

((Closed for Myself and Apollo Wilde))

IC: Aszabrael

Aszabrael found the hospice house easily enough. Anakashka's residual energy was unmistakable to someone who was intimately familiar with it as he was. The building was filled with the old and infirmed, those stuck in the limbo of a life waiting for their fate or doom to come. Most would not be headed to dwell in heaven with He-Who-Is, and why should they. Aszabrael never understood what it was about humanity that He-Who-Is would favor them so, while rebuking and casting he and his cohorts into the pit of fire that had been their domain since before He-Who-Is spoke and time began.

But that wasn't why he was here, no there would be time to vent his jealousy fueled hungers upon the pitiful mewling self-destructive pox that was mankind later. He was here to see an old old old friend.

Aszabrael walked down the hall and opened the door to the last room on the top floor. He saw her, or what was left of her. He saw her now in human form. Once long ago men and women fell to their knees in subjugation at a glimpse of her erotic beauty...now she was withered, shriveled up like a dried husk. Nearly two decades Anakashka had sequestered herself here, refusing to feed, and this was the price she paid for it.

Why? For penance? That was rich coming from the mistress of orgies, the high priestess of depravity and lust, their dark lord's favorite concubine, willing and enthusiastic for any sadistic or perverted game her wicked imagination could devise. Now she was penitent? As if it would be worth anything, prove anything, amount to anything, compared to what she had done, what they had done. No He-Who-Is absurdly forgave the humans, not them, never them. she would go on suffering under the unbearable hunger until the lake of fire and brimstone froze over. She didn't deserve forgiveness no one did.

Not from him.

He bent over her and ran fingers over her wrinkled, spotted, sunken face the memory of how it flawlessy shined with youth and vitality covered in the spilled semen of a hundred men she had damned for all eternity for their lusts. They had fucked among their lifeless bodies that night the talons of her feet embedded into his ass, those of her hands sunk into his heaving chest as he pile-drived his massive cock into her tight perfect pussy and she furiously impaled it back onto it. Their wings had spread wide, their tails twining together as he violently pulled her head back so she could look into the face of each of her victims, recounting how she had taken each of them made them suffer in pleasure as the two fallen angels fucked among their corpses for hours in their triumph over the love and care He-Who-Is favored them and how unworthy of that love she had proven them to ultimately be.

His lips pressed against hers and he gave the gift he had brought for her. Vital energy, the liquid secretions of a dozen virgins he had deflowered and defiled just for her, their souls. Aszabrael had resisted the nearly unbearable temptation to consume those souls whole himself.

No, he needed to speak with her.

Her eyes shot open as he pulled back. They focused upon him, not recognizing him in this human form, but they began to search deeper past the mere flesh. They widened.

"Did you truly think I would not find you eventually, Anakashka?"

"It is fitting that he sent you for me," She stated her voice still weak and cracking like dried leaves underfoot, "How long has it been?"

"Atleast two decades as humans reckon time," He answered raising up and sitting beside her, "I will keep this short. Where is she?"

"You will not find her," She said weakly smiling with a smugness that was nothing but a shadow of the Anakashka he remembered, "I hid her too well, and though it nearly destroyed me I made certain I stayed away so I know nothing for you to follow to her."

He growled looking away from her. He wanted to rip and tear into her, vent his rage and frustration with the spilling or her blood and the rending of her organs, but that wouldn't accomplish anything. In their past they had considered that mere foreplay, and now...now he wasn't sure what it would be to her, and that uncertainty stayed his hands...for now.

"But you knew that, Aszabrael, didn't you," She continued, "So why did you come here? To ask me not where my daughter is, I think." Bony fragile fingers reached out and covered his hand on the bed sheets, "You have another question entirely you desperately want to ask. You want to know: why I did it."

"None of us have been able to procreate since He-Who-Is cast us out," He shook his head, "Halfbreeds yes, but not a full blooded offspring. Her potential power just based on her two heritages alone staggers the imagination. You and your daughter would have been worshipped perhaps even to the point of usurping leadership from lucifer himself."

"She was my first child. Carrying her within me changed everything. It made me think on my existence, and the future of my daughter." She said softly, "Look around you, Aszabrael, I know my chances for the forgiveness of He-Who-Is are minute. This isn't my penance, she is."

He laughed then, a harsh bark filled with spite and venom. Anakashka had been the one to convince him to throw in with Lucifer in the rebellion against He-Who-Is. Because of her...His hand clutched hers tightening until the bones within were in danger of snapping.

"You have miscalculated," He bit out to her, "She has awakened once already, taken most of an innocent soul and consumed it. The process has already begun. She is one of us now, more than you or I. I will find her, and teach her to become what you have spurned, to revel in sin and lust and perversion as you once did. If she is your penance then I will turn her into your damnation."

"No, Aszabrael, don't, please....Aszabrael!"

He left her, too weak to do more than shout and implore mercy from a being she knew would show her none.

Aszabrael changed into a flock of ravens flying above the hospice house and settling atop the roof of a vacant building a few miles to the northeast. He coalesced back into the human shell and sat cross-legged. He spread out his senses wider and then wider again. Anakashka's daughter would be a bright beacon among the flickering flames of the mortal she was buried among. Hours went buy without success, and just as Aszabrael despaired of failure he came across her.

She was asleep and entering the realm of dreams. He smiled wide, as he slipped within her dream and found it to be a dream of sex. Though he shouldn't have been so surprised.

What succubus didn't dream of fucking?

He slid further into the dream and her faceless lover became him. His lips pressed against hers. His hands fondled and gently kneaded her breasts. His thigh parted hers, and pressed against her wanting pussy to grind against.

He had her now.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Danya Eder always had strange dreams. Surreal. Full of things lurking in the dark and of quiet thoughts. There was no real way to prepare for them; they just happened. And sometimes they were good, and sometimes they were bad.

This one, though....was making her uncomfortable. But she couldn’t force herself awake; remind herself of what was real and what wasn’t. Normally she welcomed them - good ones were an ecstatic re-envisioning of the world around her, a wondrous kaleidoscope of all the mind had to offer.

But this one was inappropriate.

It was inappropriate for a myriad of reasons: the main one was because even in her sleep, she was in a hospital. Her first would-be lover was laying comatose in the bed next to her, his chest barely rising and falling under the stark white sheets. Wrong because she was slipping deeper and deeper into the realm of flesh, and that was sinful. There was a major difference between ecstatic dreams and this one. This one focused a little too long on who her body was, and despite her best intentions, despite wanting to be freed of the flesh to be an entirely spiritual being, a blip of light on the cosmic scale, she could not.

She slipped free of all of her hang ups and all there was left was her body, young and shapely, smooth and deliciously brown without mar. In these dreams, her body was lovingly molded by a higher power, one who spent the time and effort into creating a masterpiece. There was nothing sinful here; just joy and rapture. She turned back the pages of time and was a pagan goddess, and so unlike her waking life, she was desired here. She could indulge and have men indulge in her.

In this dream, she returned the kiss cooly, like someone who had been kissed many times, kissed so many times that it hardly made a difference anymore - not the clumsy way she must have kissed Arin. The man in her dream kissed her like she longed to be kissed - that he needed her to live, that he was reduced to the vapors of ego. It was the Id that responded; a need that burned in the pit of his stomach. And she, queen of some distant time, returned those hot begging kisses with absolute indifference and loved every moment of it. To his grinding, she would playfully swivel her hips away, just enough for his thigh to feel the whisper touch of her pubic hair. Her hands slid between his on her body, trailing sensuously down to cover his over her cunt, and she helped him ease a finger between her lips, the flesh full and slick.

Freed from the ideas of “love”, “marriage,” and “children,” she could be as raw as she felt.

_______

Danya was adopted.

The only thing she had from her mother was her name. She thought it was strange, and one day she looked it up. After all, it was a peculiar name for a black baby to have. “God is my judge” was what it meant. What kind of woman would give her baby that name? It wasn’t like it was common by any means. Her adoptive parents were sweet, good people - and she had originally thought they had given her that name. They were Jewish and the name was Hebrew. Why not, right? And she had taken to the faith like a fish to water. There was no better feeling than being at synagogue, surrounded by YHWH’s love and everlasting presence. Though her family wasn’t explicitly orthodox, as she had gotten older, she had taken to covering her locks with a scarf. She dressed modestly, didn’t speak very loudly, and for the most part enjoyed being part of the background. She was like any other girl, she felt. She went out, enjoyed movies and yoga, and spent a lot of time reading about eastern religions looking for the perfect combination of physical activity and the divine, since she had always been an active child. Why walk when you could run, why skip when you could jump, and why sit when you could climb a tree?

Well, normal for the most part, she thought.

When it came to men, that....was a sticky issue with her. To realize that she had “needs” had profoundly disturbed her. The fact that she had gone from not really looking at her own pussy to having a boy down there still sort of blew her mind. And from that to this - here in the hospital, sitting vigil for a boy that she felt would never open his eyes again. It served her right, she had thought bitterly. That was the wage of premarital sex and showed her that she should not act on those impulses. And it wasn’t like she hadn’t seen naked men before. She had a liberal education, after all - sex lead to babies and the male nude plastered some of the most prominent churches and museums. In that sense, it was beautiful. She hoped one day, that maybe, just maybe, someone could see her like that and she could be a muse.


Arin had been so sweet to her. They had talked of getting married, once they finished their respective degrees. He was a little more religious than her, and wore his skull cap with pride. He never pushed her into anything that she was hesitant to do. He held her hand, met her parents, gave her shy kisses when they had moments alone. And when his hands first touched her bare flesh, she felt a thrill course through her body, curling her toes and tightening her pussy lips. When he entered her, there was pain...red exploded behind her eyes and hot tears welled. He was stretching her, past words, past the confines of her body, and with a long exhale he was in, worried about the tears that had escaped from behind her eyelids. Soothingly, he whispered in her ear, waited for her okay before he started moving again. Slowly, slowly, one long stroke after the other, he filled her, and her body began to sing. Electricity filled her limbs, through each strand of hair, through every blood cell.

And then they were here.

She had struggled to tell the paramedics what happened, but she didn’t know. Her tears and her words ran together. She was ashamed, embarrassed, scared - all of this happened because she, her body, didn’t want to wait until the sacrament of marriage had been fulfilled. She wanted to feel him now, wanted to know his love right at that moment. And as he had drawn closer, his breathing going ragged at the edges like torn paper, she felt something inside of her spark and she was full beyond all belief, she threw her head back howling at some unseen moon. And he shuddered, collapsing on top of her.

And didn’t wake up.

How could she explain that to the paramedics who crowded her room, who only stopped to bark orders at her as she struggled to hide her all too nude body under her blue and green kimono?

“I don’t know, he was on top of me and then he passed out,” she tried to say, again and again, looking for a scarf to cover her hair. She was immodest, her wanton nature showing itself as her hair was disheveled. She wanted to collapse into tears, but she could not. She had to summon some sort of strength right now to tell them all that happened, no matter how embarrassing. If she withheld something, it might mean the death of Arin, and she could not have that. As they loaded him onto the stretcher, she saw the nearly frayed red thread around Arin’s pale wrist, and she burst into tears, one of her dormmates wrapping her arms around her.

And now she was in her dream, relishing in her secret lover, her body demanding him to spur her to ever greater heights of pleasure, daring and begging him to take her as she truly deserved to be taken, to fill all of the desires that only her dreams could dare.

What a horrible girl she was.

 

[Veroe]

IC: Aszabrael

Aszabrael recognized the unspoken demand her dream-body expressed, the hunger underneath it all. This little young demoness hadn't realized what she was yet, but she knew at the most basic, primal, instinctual level that she was a succubus-a creature of passion and carnal lusts. Also at some subconscious level she recognized him, even within his guise in this dream-form, as an incubus; a compatible lover for her. Humans would never survive her passions, much less truly hope to match them, but he could. Aszabrael could even push her to demand ever more pleasure and be able and willing to supply that to her.

His kiss upon her dark chocolate lips intensified, more demanding of her, daring her to match and even surpass the passion of it. His fingers teased and rolled her nipple as his finger slipped past the lips of her sex, slow so she could feel every torturously pleasurable sensation of the penetration. When it sunk all the way inside he pinched the nipple as it pulled back out to slowly push in again. His tongue dove within her mouth sliding and carressing over hers as his finger pumped inside her faster now.

Within the dream she was in a hospital waiting lounge and dream-people read magazines in their chairs or drank coffee from a machine across from her, or walked past her down the hall to non-existant hospital rooms completely oblivious to what the two demons were doing. A voice over a PA system paging a doctor from the outside world intruded within and that tried to tug her mind to wakefulness but Aszabrael was succuessful in keeping her tightly wrapped up within her dream as his thumb found her clitoris, and added a second finger pumping within her.

His actions came to a plateau now, kissing, rolling and pinching, and pumping fingers into her. If she wanted more then she would have to take it from him.

Outside her dream, it was much like what was within. People read magazines, doctors were paged over the intercomm, nurses and orderlies walked up and down the hallway, patients recovered from treatments in their rooms. All unaware that the woman asleep in the visitor's lounge was having an erotic dream, but they felt it. Men shifted in their seats trying to get comfortable with their hardening erections in their pants, women closed their legs together to hide their dampening panties as Danya's arousal affected them in kind. They were unaware of its source but due to their proximity to her, helpless to keep their minds off more carnal and sinful subjects.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Gods, the pleasure...

It seemed like a lifetime ago when Arin’s fumbling penetration had hurt her so. Her body aflame, she moaned into her dark lover’s lips, her legs parting to allow him further access. Still lost in the depths of her dream, she hardly noticed that on the physical plane, her legs were sliding open in her chair, stretching the long folds of her dress. It wasn’t that it slipped high enough to offer any sort of tantalizing glimpse, but the idea, and oh, the even brown skin under it, the way her toes curled slightly against her flat sandals - all of it was a captured moment in passion. Her lips parted, and a breathy sigh escaped from them, her brows furrowing.

His hand had tugged her skirt higher up her legs, exposing the smooth flesh of her thighs, hot and slick from her arousal. As his fingers worked inside of her, the movement of his wrists hiked the fabric up further, offering the slightest peak of her pussy lips, masked by tight black curls. As he slid them out, the deep pink of her opening gaped for him to return. When his thumb made contact with her clitoris, she exhaled, her breath sharp against his ear. With her freed hand, she hauled her skirt shamelessly above her waist, exposing her sopping pussy

“Give it to me....” she hissed in her dream, pulling her lips away from his long enough to snarl her request. It was really, honestly, less of a request than a demand. She wanted it, and she wanted it now, and she wanted it from him. Her fingers curling within his dark hair, she pulled his lips fiercely back into hers, her teeth closing on his bottom lip. This dream....this person, she couldn’t recognize herself. Couldn’t make sense of the desire that was burning through her body, or the fact that her lover had the audacity to take her, right here, right now, in front of the nonchalant hospital visitors. Her hands locked within his thick hair pulled him with a jolt to face her.

Better than with Arin, better than she had allowed herself to imagine, the constant stimulation from him, the probing work of his fingers, stoked that fire burning in her belly. Her breath catching in sobbing gasps - it was good, but she needed more. She needed him.

In the real world, her steady breathing grew strained, as if she were crying in her sleep. Her legs opened and closed, her knees rubbing against each other. Her fingers clenched the sides of her chair, and she shifted, this way and that, legs parting and closing as she lost herself further in the dream.

 

[Veroe]

IC: Aszabrael

“Give it to me....” She growled against his lips curling fingers through his hair, fingernails digging into the back of his head as she pulled him in for another soul-searing kiss. Aszabrael snarled his arousal as her teeth bit down into his bottom lip. She let go and they stared into eachother's eyes, his stark blue and hers deep dark, both reflecting their unleashed lusts and passions.

His lips curled up into a wicked smile as he slowly pulled his fingers millimeter by millimeter out of her. The two that were just inside her was covered in the juice of her arousal. Aszabrael brought them up to his lips in the scant space between their faces. So now they were only a hairsbreadth away from his lips and hers. Never taking his eyes away from hers Aszabrael slowly, leisurely parted his lips and extended his tongue and ran along the length of his finger collecting her nectar savoring every second of it. He left the other finger untouched a temptation/invitation for her to participate in tasting the fruit of her lusts.

Once cleaned his hand lowered to the other on her chest bunched up in his fists the fabric of her dress and pulled ripping it down the middle exposing her bra restrained breasts to the open air.

Within the dream the people around her turned the pages of their magazines, walked down the hall, drank their coffee oblivious to what was going on in their midst.

"Do you want it?" He leaned his head down nibbling on her earlobe whispering into it. "How much do you want it?"

He pulled one of her hands from his hair and forced it down between them to trace her fingertips along the large tent in his pants. "It is not your nature to be given what you want. This is not a treasure to be given to you. It is prey. It is a conquest. If you want it, little one, take it." With that he moved her fingers to the zipper and let go of her wrist.

Now he would see how much of her instincts were awakened.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

"If you want it, little one, take it."

No.

No...this wasn’t right. Something wasn’t....why didn’t anyone notice what they were doing? Their lips were so close together, his glistening fingers held in front of her. The smell of her body’s arousal, sharp and as distinctly hers as a fingerprint brought her close. Her tongue caressing his digits, it was the bitter taste of happiness.

Her gaze faltered, and her form stiffened in his, pulling away. Wrenching herself from his grasp, her chest rising and falling heavily, that little slip of reality against the firm muscle of her tongue, and she savored it. Even within the realm of her dreams, she couldn’t fake this, the most intimate part of herself. She had never tasted it before, but she smelled it - the smell that coated the sheets when Arin had tried so hard to make her body sing, and he had succeeded, for a few sparkling moments....

“I....I....” Goosebumps dotted her skin, and she let go of him, her arms moving to cover her nearly bare chest, folding in on herself like a flower closing in the absence of the sun.

Sinful.

Inappropriate.

God was watching.

“I can’t do this!”

Her shriek reverberated through the dream, and she awoke with a start, sweat coating her forehead and feeling ice trail across the nape of her neck. Gasping, her hands eagerly sought her chest, reassured by the ripples of fabric. The setting was all too familiar; in truth, she had not traveled anywhere within the haze of the dream. The people around her still ignored her presence - she was just another hapless hospital denizen, no one to notice. Reaching up, she felt a few stray curls poking from the edge of her head scarf, and swallowing slowly, purposefully, she edged them back under the fold of fabric.

Standing slowly, her legs shook. She had to get water, something to help wake her up, something to help bring her back to the world she was in now. Dazed, she took a few steps forward, feeling the trembling slip from the strong expanse of her hips and thighs to the tips of her toes.

Damp curling from the center of herself, she paused. It was something she couldn’t ignore, and in mortification, she lowered her head. From the center of her thighs, warmth and her smell radiated, temptingly, teasingly, begging for a completion of what she dreamed of, what little Arin had offered.

Maybe instead of the water fountain, she would be better served by a quick trip to the bathroom as well.

 

[Veroe]

IC: Azabrael

"If you want it, little one, take it." With that he moved her fingers to the zipper and let go of her wrist.

Now he would see how much of her instincts were awakened.

There was a fog of lust in her eyes as she heard that and then it began to clear suddenly. Aszabrael could tell she was becoming more and more aware of the dreamworld. He tried to keep her wrapped up within it, but it was her dream. She ultimately had control of what occurred in it.

“I....I....” She muttered letting him go to cover herself before letting out a cry that shattered the dream and rocketed her back up to the world of waking. “I can’t do this!”

Aszabrael's eyes snapped open. He was back ontop of the roof of the building he had started searching for her from.

He arose stretching out his arms and back. It was raining, big fat thumb-sized raindrops, and it had been coming down for a while now. How long had he sat there searching for her?

It didn't matter. He had found her. She wasn't as far along as he had hoped, but she was definitely strong, unrefined but strong. He had pushed too hard too fast, but he had wanted to see how far along her true self was awakened.

He laughed as the rain continued to come down in sheets. Anakashka had hidden her well, but he had her now. Now that he experienced her power he'd be able to track her aura down anywhere.

"Danya," He smiled wickedly as he tested her name over his tongue. There was power in names, an ownership over its owner when another spoke it. Soon, but that was the name the human figment recognized. Soon he'd learn her true name. Soon.

He lifted his foot to the edge of the roof. Raised up and calmly extend his foot out over the ledge. His weight shifted forward and the moment he started to fall Aszabrael dissolved into the form of a flock of ravens and he/they flapping their wings set off East towards Danya's city.

It was many miles to cross but Aszabrael was relentless in his pursuit. He flew over roads and fields, lakes and rivers, towns and farms, until he reached her city. She had left the hospital and returned to her dwelling. He landed atop her roof, and the tree in her front yard. Being crows he cawed loudly and often maintaining his cover. Though one of them/him peered through the window eyes never leaving her.

He would wait, and watch, and learn. He was immortal and had the patience the unending centuries had taught him. He/they cawed loudly again.

Soon, Danya, soon.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Her time at the hospital seemed very, very far away - and it was maybe a 30, 40 minute drive away from her apartment. As soon as she was able to piece herself together, she moved out of her dorm room on campus. She couldn’t bear to be around any further reminders of what had happened to her, to her Arin.

The apartment was barren in the fashion of young students - boxes stacked upon one another, hardly any furniture but her bed and a bookshelf. Her adoptive parents, once hearing what had happened, had driven down to help her move. It was easy to forget her circumstances once she was at the hospital; and as much as she hated to admit to herself, it was a large reason of why she was there so often. Once she was home, back in the middle of this empty apartment in this city that was hardly familiar to her anymore, it came.

She sat down on the floor, slowly pulling her head scarf from her head, and burying her face in her hands, began to sob in ernest. Her whole future was in tatters.

_____

It felt like hours later when she was able to get up, gather her wits about her once more. Wiping at her tear swollen eyes, she sighed. She would have to figure out how to get her life back on track. She had to. Her parents had sacrificed so much for her to go to school, for her to be successful. She owed everything to them - even the fact that she was alive and healthy right now.

The first thing was first; a shower. Something to help her feel new. What was that raucous sound? Turning to the window, she noticed the flock of crows. That...seemed odd. But perhaps it was that time of year. With a sigh, she sat up and went to the kitchen. Though the rain had lightened, it was still drizzling. Returning to the window, she crumbled up the heel of bread she had in her hand, and lifted the window. Scattering the bread crumbs into the yard of the apartment, she took a deep breath of the wet air outside. It was nice enough and the rain wasn’t too hard - she would leave it open. Something about the dampness helped clear her head, helped breathe new life into the apartment. Managing a faint smile to the tree outside, she slipped back into the depths of her home.

The bathroom was decorated in shades of blue; even the light bulb had been changed to a blue one. It gave the entire white-tiled room an ethereal quality, like stepping into a mermaid’s grotto. Slipping her clothes off, she reached forward to start the water. In a few moments, steam hissed from the shower head. Drawing the blue-green plastic curtain closed, she stepped under the stream of water, closing her eyes.

 

[Veroe]

IC: Aszabrael

When Aszabrael found her Danya was in her bedroom with her head in her hands. Her shoulders were shaking. Although the closed window cut off all sound from inside the room to him. Aszabrael could tell she was weeping. His crow form cocked its head to the side quizzically watching her as she wept.

Was she crying over her plight?

Such a thing was beyond Aszabrael's comprehension. He-who-is had imparted many powers upon his angels both those that had remained loyal to him and those that had rebelled and became twisted, perverted reflections of their brothers and sisters who still served him faithfully now. But among those powers the ability to weep, to mourn, to regret was not among them. Oh they felt them, but only mortals could expunge such toxic emotions in cleansing tears.

Had Danya spent so much time among humans that she had learned to mimic such a pitiful state flawlessly, or had she figured out how to actually weep?

Interesting, but ultimately irrelevant to him now.

He watched her sitting there on the floor weeping and puzzling over it. Eventually the tears slowed and vanished-how could such a thing be turned on and off so easily was still beyond him, but Danya did so.

Aszabrael cawed from his perch on the tree in the front yard loudly. The other crows on Danya's roof echoed it as he did. She turned drawn by the sound and finally noticed him. Their eyes hers human and his masked by his avian form, and neither their true eyes, but for a split second there was a connection between them. He cawed again as she rose up on her feet and began to walk out of her bedroom. She returned a moment later with a peice of bread in her hands.

She crumbled the bread and spread them out on the lawn. Aszabrael cawed his grattitude to her as she turned his left, though he had no interest in human food. Danya had neglected to close the window as she turned and headed towards the bathroom. Ignoring the breadcrumbs getting soaked in the light drizzle Aszabrael fluttered to the windowsill.

Danya had shut the bathroom door and began to take a shower. In a moment she was lost within daydreams as the water cascaded down over her naked body. He shut his avian eyes and stretched out his senses. He could feel her now. She was unaware, confused, and so very hungry and alone underneath the human guise.

The feel of his hands running over her soft brown skin would come over her. Caressing her back and thighs, over the tight round surface of her ass. The feel of his palms rough against her smooth skin.

Bridging his mind to her conscious one took a great deal of his concentration and a monumental amount of his stored energy. He would need to seek out someone elsewhere in this city to consume and replenish himself later. It would have to be someone easily and swiftly corruptible, he just didn't have the time to leave Danya and be truly artistic in his seduction towards his prey-pity.

"Were the tears for him or were they shed for yourself, little one," Came the words of his voice to the forefront of her mind as the feeling of his hands migrated over to her frontside. One began to knead a breast the other lower to the valley of her sex. "Do not weep for him or yourself. Do not fear your true nature. You are a sexual being, Danya. One does not fault a lioness for its hungers. So too should you not fault your own."

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Cascading over her body, the warm water drew long translucent fingers down the curves of her body. Standing with her eyes closed and face tilted upwards against the flow, she squeezed her eyelids shut tightly. Though her eyes were puffy and sore from her tears earlier, the hot water scalded and soothed at the same time. Raising her hands to her face, she rubbed at her eyes and then ran her hands across the rest of her face with a long sigh.

God, Danya. You have to keep it together.

She instantly felt guilty for having that thought. How could she? If she had actually ignored her urges, none of this would have happened. Arin wouldn’t be in the hospital and she wouldn’t be struggling to make sense of a world that was in perfect working order not even 24 hours ago. But on the same hand...was not even Job tried under God’s hand? All of this had to be according to some much bigger plan....She ran her fingers through her hair, slowly opening her eyes with another slow exhale. Yes. That had to be it. It had to be according to something bigger than her. And all that she could do right now was bear up with grace, trust, and faith.

Following the rills of water cascading down her sides, her eyes drifted shut again. Like her tears, there was something ultimately cleansing about the shower. Like her dreams, this felt to be a place that she was more herself than anywhere else.

It was so disgustingly easy to fall back into that touch, enjoy it. Slipping further into the deep pool of her mind, her hands moved across the slick flesh, savoring the taunt skin of her ass and the gentle curve of her stomach. These hands weren’t hurried. They were experienced, yes, but the way they touched her, skilled, savoring....Clay in the hands of a skilled potter who would do his best to coax the best results from her yielding body. Without breaking her train of thought, her body responded to the touch, her breath hissing from her lightly.

It took her a moment longer than it should have to realize that there were a second pair of hands on her body. They couldn’t be hers. In her imagination, in the darker corners of her mind, the hands that touched her were never like this: rough, insistent, so familiar.

And that voice....!

Her eyes snapped open. Water still fell around her, and she could hear no one else in the apartment. The only difference now was that she felt ice cold under the sheets of hot water. Cold, and very, very scared.

Her heart throbbing, she turned off the water with shaking hands. Twice in one day. Listening to the water flow down the drain, she gently hugged herself. It was just stress. What had happened was traumatic - of course she'd be suffering some strange psychosomatic sexual...."acting out." She stood there for long moments, waiting for her heart to slow down, for the world, for something, to make a little more sense.

"God, please give me strength," she whispered.

 

[Veroe]

IC: Aszabrael

"Were the tears for him or were they shed for yourself, little one," Came the words of his voice to the forefront of her mind as the feeling of his hands migrated over to her frontside. One began to knead a breast the other lower to the valley of her sex. "Do not weep for him or yourself. Do not fear your true nature. You are a sexual being, Danya. One does not fault a lioness for its hungers. So too should you not fault your own."

The crow that was Aszabrael in her bedroom fell back on the floor shaking his head. That was the second time the conscious human mind of Danya had expelled him from fully awakening her true self beneath it.

Perhaps he needed to change tactics. Yes, he would entreat her face to face. He flapped up atop her bed and the other crows of him flew through the window soundlessly joining him in a black mass swirling and forming into a new human body.

He stretched out nude over her bedsheets arms raised and hands slipping behind the rail at the head of it. His eyebrow cocked as he waited for her to come out of the bathroom.

When the door opened he called out to her, "Danya, I have decided it is time you met me. I am the man from your dream in the hospital and just now while you showered. My name is Aszabrael, and I knew your mother, Anakashka, for a long time." He nodded his tent to the place beside him on her bed. "Take a seat. We have much to discuss."

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Wrapping her hair in a towel, she ruffled her thick hair. There was no way she could get it entirely dry with the towel, but it beat going back to her bare room with dripping wet hair. For long moments she stood, lost in the very act of feeling the lumps and rolls and fluff of her hair. It was easy to get her heart to slow down once she was focused on something else. She had to have been hearing things. That’s all that was. She was stressed; she was under quite a bit of pressure and all. On top of everything else, she had to figure out how to get back to school. Even with as bad as things were, it would all be for a waste if she didn’t finish her education, didn’t keep going.

Pacing out of the bedroom, she slung the wet towel from her hair and used the drier parts to dab water from her body. Walking to her room, she opened the door and promptly screamed. Dropping her towels, she clamped her hands over her mouth, eyes wide with fear. The fact that she was now as nude as him didn’t register to her. Backing up, she reached blindly behind the door. Her father had made her the gift of a baseball bat - even though she didn’t play a lick.

“Just in case,” he had told her with a slight wink as he handed it to her.

Once her fingers curled around the wood of the bat, she held it in a threatening manner over her head. “How in the blue blazes did you get in my room? You better answer me before I bash your head in!” Her voice was sharp, but it wavered. She was obviously working on sheer adrenaline - and wasn’t quite in her right mind.

And something in her quivered. As much as she struggled to keep her eyes on his, they kept wandering down. They hardly registered his face. No, they trailed from the taunt tendons in his arms, the curve of his biceps, the brown of his nipples and the carved lines of his stomach. Her fingers itched to touch him, her tongue pressed against the back of her teeth, eager to taste the flesh he so willingly displayed for her.

Then he spoke, and her fingers tightened on the bat.

“I must be losing my mind.....You can’t be real.” She took a threatening step forward, bat still over her head. “I’m losing my mind. I’m losing my goddamn mind.” And that was it right there. Danya didn’t swear. Not by nature. “No...no, no, you can’t be real!” Her voice was louder, but she did not shout. She had to be losing her mind. It was because of all of the stress. Had to be. How did he get in? The door was locked. The window was cracked, but it was too small for him to have been able to get in. Inching closer, she shifted the bat in her hands to prod him with the tip of it.

 

[Veroe]

IC: Aszabrael

He stretched out nude over her bedsheets arms raised and hands slipping behind the rail at the head of it. His eyebrow cocked as he waited for her to come out of the bathroom. When he had bridged their minds he had surveyed her notions both the conscious and unconscious ones of an attractive male form. He had used some of them when assuming this body.

Within moments she came wrapped in damp towels and nothing else. When she saw him there on her bed she jerked to a halt and screamed aloud. The towels precariously perched on the swell of her breasts came free at the motion and landed on the floor. Leaving her gloriously bare to his gaze.

Aszabrael gaze slid over her slow, making no secret of what he was doing as his eyes trailed over the supple lines and curves, and the exotic shade of brown-edible like fine milk chocolate. He even inhaled savoring the rich scent of her fresh from the shower's cleansing carress.

“How in the blue blazes did you get in my room," She snarled raising a baseball bat over her head threateningly.

He just smiled wickedly up at her. There was a waver in her voice that told him she wouldn't go straight to violence without being pushed further than finding a naked stranger in her bed-pity: violence could be a wonderful aphrodisiac.

You better answer me before I bash your head in!” She continued.

"Danya, I have decided it is time you met me. I am the man from your dream in the hospital and just now while you showered. My name is Aszabrael, and I knew your mother, Anakashka, for a long time." He nodded his head to the place beside him on her bed. "Take a seat. We have much to discuss."

“I must be losing my mind.....You can’t be real.” She stammered.

"On the contrary, little one. I am quite real." He said lowering a hand to his chest and down over the length of his body all the way down to his hard throbbing cock begging for her attention, "Here reach out and feel how real I am."

She took a threatening step forward, bat still over her head. “I’m losing my mind. I’m losing my goddamn mind."

"Surely, you can not deny the evidence of your own eyes, Danya."

No...no, no, you can’t be real!” She glanced about to the door and then towards the cracked window. Finally she reached out and prodded his side the end of the bat.

"You see I am no figment of your imagination, no madness, no hallucination." He told her casually raising his hand and tracing his fingertips over the woodgrain up until the end of his finger brushed over one of her knuckles clutched tightly around the baseball bat, "You are very beautiful, look how hard and tight the sight of your naked body has made my manhood. Am I not pleasing in appearance to you in the same fashion?"

His hand lowered and patted the bed beside him. "Come sit, I have much to tell you, and it is not news to take standing up."

He looked her seductively in the eye, "I would tell you of your true heritage."

 

[Apollo Wilde]

His touch was nothing short of electric. The fine hairs along her arm stood on end as his fingers brushed against her knuckles. Her pulse roared in her ears. Her legs shook, her knees gently bumping into one another as she stood shock still. She had never even threatened another person in her life, and now she had threatened this mysterious naked man.

Her pulse was louder in her ears, and for long moments, she felt faint.

There had to be something, some explanation behind it. Even through the trembling of her heart, her mind struggled to make connections, rifle through all of the myths and stories she had heard growing up.

“My God....” she said, finally, her fingers releasing the bat. Now it all made sense. She was being tested. “A dybbuk! You’re a dybbuck!” There was no other word for this creature that was in her bed. Her parents told her that not everything that was in the world could be seen or experienced. Some lay cradled only in God’s hands. Religion didn’t always mesh well with science, but she had been taught, raised to belief that neither were mutually exclusive.

But the truth of the matter was, if she was not so delirious with fear, she would have fainted, shrieked, any number of natural reactions.

When he spoke of her ancestry, she raised her eyebrow. “No, dybbuk - I know I’m adopted. My parents aren’t my biological parents, but they’ve raised me well. I couldn’t have known a better set...” This was typical of them - dybbuks, anyway. They were malicious tricksters. He would say anything, take any form, to appeal to her and bring her away from God.

Her eyes still traced the lines of his body. She could not keep them from wandering. But she could try to keep it from being so obvious. It was...interesting. The only man she had seen naked before him was Arin. Arin was soft and white; this body in front of her was toned and tan. There was more confidence.

In the pit of her stomach, something fluttered.

 

[Veroe]

IC: Aszabrael

His hand lowered and patted the bed beside him. "Come sit, I have much to tell you, and it is not news to take standing up."

Aszabrael was pleased to see the effect his touch had upon her. Though her human self was confused and frightened by it, but her true self wanted him. He could feel it in her eyes, hear it under the words of her voice. She wanted him the way a starving woman wanted a plate of food before her.

“My God....” She said after a moment dropping the bat, “A dybbuk! You’re a dybbuck!”

"No, not quite," He told her.

He looked her seductively in the eye, "I would tell you of your true heritage."

“No, dybbuk - I know I’m adopted. My parents aren’t my biological parents," She replied testily, " but they’ve raised me well. I couldn’t have known a better set...”

He raised a finger reproachfully. "Do not call me that. A Dybbuk, as if I would stoop so low as possession."

He moved his hands behind his head and crossed his legs relaxing atop her bed as her eyes devoured every contour of his body. "So many names, and titles. I am Incubus, fallen, forsaken, cast out into pit of fire for daring to challenge my creator. I have become a creature of lust and passion unleashed. I devour the sexual energy of humans, even to the point where I consume their souls." He looked into her eyes. "And you Danya, are just like me."

 

[Apollo Wilde]

She paused.

“An incubus....?” Well, why not? If dybbuks and mooncalves still walked the earth, why not his kind? But...it just seemed so far out of the blue. How could it exist in this day and age, where science ruled and the works of God so distant from this world?

“Has He....truly abandoned us to your kind?” Her voice wavered. She was raised, no, it was stamped deep within her to believe in a kind and loving creator. Everything He did had its reason and its place, even if it was beyond her narrow mortal scope. Her Lord would ask her for her truth, for the truth that she would conspire to hide so deep within her as if to ignore that she too, was made out of weak flesh, destined to dust.

“Creature....I experience desire. I experience it so that it burns so deep inside of me that I feel as if my whole body has caught fire. I throb...it aches...” Her hands trailed down her body to sit firmly over her pubic mound. Though her fingers slipped through the tight black curls, she did not penetrate herself. “Here - this is where it burns. This is where all of my dark desires, the curse of Eve, comes from. And I acted on it! And now you’re here to judge me, to try and get me to fall that much further. I’m only human. I guess it makes sense. But if you were once from God, what keeps you from going back?”

 

[Veroe]

IC: Aszabrael

He moved his hands behind his head and crossed his legs relaxing atop her bed as her eyes devoured every contour of his body. "So many names, and titles. I am Incubus, fallen, forsaken, cast out into pit of fire for daring to challenge my creator. I have become a creature of lust and passion unleashed. I devour the sexual energy of humans, even to the point where I consume their souls." He looked into her eyes. "And you Danya, are just like me."

She said nothing for some time before asking, “An incubus....?”

"Yes, Aszabrael by name," He smiled up at her.

She asked him, “Has He....truly abandoned us to your kind?” There was a fearful quavering to her words.

"Who...oh you mean He-Who-Is..." His smile evaporated and he looked up at her with something like sympathy, "You would never be accepted by him, not truly..." He patted the bed beside him, "Come sit and tell me about yourself, do you feel the hunger, hear the call of desire, does it throb in your heart like it does mine?"

“Creature....I experience desire."

"Tell me," He asked.

"I experience it so that it burns so deep inside of me that I feel as if my whole body has caught fire," She continued, "I throb...it aches...”

"Where, Danya," He pressed, "Where do you feel it?"

Her hands lowered and his gaze followed down her body over the fertile valley to the gates of paradise of her vagina. “Here - this is where it burns. This is where all of my dark desires, the curse of Eve, comes from. And I acted on it! And now you’re here to judge me, to try and get me to fall that much further."

"On the contrary. I am no one's judge, Danya," He said raising up on his knees atop her bed and facing her, "You don't know who or what you are," He reached out and touched her trailing his fingertip down the centerline of her lush young body down to where her hands covered them from his gaze, "But you still feel it, down here-the truth of your existence. You lived among them, a wolf raised by sheep, but deep down here you know you aren't like them, do you? Here you know you are like your mother and like me. A being of sin and debotchery and carnal pleasure, a succubus." His eyes flashed red with that last word.

"I’m only human. I guess it makes sense." She said, "But if you were once from God, what keeps you from going back?”

"That was your mother's mistake, desiring something forever barred to her." His hand raised and his finger lifted her face to look into his eyes, "Anakashka, always wanted whatever was denied to her." A finger of his other hand traced her bottom lip, "As for me, why would I want to go back and be his lapdog again as he dotes over mankind."

He leaned back onto the bed. His eyes never left hers. "Tell me of your lover, Danya. Why did you choose him to be the first you tasted?"

 

[Apollo Wilde]

He touched her with such ease, she was too startled to jerk back. No, there was part of him that called to her, that part of her answered with alacrity. So she sat down on the bed next to him. It was hard to ignore him. Part of her screamed, screamed until her mind was numb that this couldn’t be happening; it was all too strange. After all, who had heard of such things? God’s in His Heaven, all’s right with the world. But it wasn’t. The fact that her life had taken such a divergent twist in the span of hours....

As if moving through molasses, she leaned into his touch, dimly aware that her body was moving without her full consent. He was beautiful to look at, warm to her fingertips and sang of a forbidden masculinity, the man that lurked in the corners of her fantasies when her body throbbed for a touch beyond her own. The type of man that she felt she could never get; the type of man that generally ignored her. So used to being invisible to the opposite sex, to find herself the sole object of his attention flared within her...

His hands trailing down the faint swell of her stomach to her pubis, her face grew hot. He touched her without any of the shy hesitation of Arin; of a confidence that beckoned to her and repelled her in the same fashion. And when she parted her lips to speak, to answer him, it was from a person that she barely recognized.

“You touch me like I’m so easily won,” and her tone was flirtatious, daring, as she swatted his hand away. “I may have fallen once, but a second time should require much more effort.”

Coming to herself again, she covered her mouth with a slight gasp. “I don’t...I don’t know why I said that.” She studied him. He looked at her as if he was going to devour her; there was no tenderness there. And it chilled her to the bone. Reaching out, her fingers curled before she ran them over the broad muscles of his chest. He was warm to the touch, slightly sweaty - but his eyes, gods, that was the indication. Dark holes into nothing they were, and she jerked her hand back.

Her brows rose when he mentioned a mother. “My mother....?” Who was the woman who had really given birth to her? She had not known of any sob story of a young woman who had gotten pregnant before she was ready. All she knew was of her foster family who had treated her as their own, despite her dark skin. And now....

“What was she like?” She asked before she could stop herself. Maybe if she could figure out who this other woman was, she could find the thread of herself tangled in there, somewhere. Part of her still whined that this couldn’t be possible; but she couldn’t deny the raw magnetism that was there. There was no ignoring it. His pull was strong, too strong. And while she still wrapped herself firmly in her faith, she had to know - who was this woman who turned away from all she knew?

“Arin was a good man,” she said. He had embarrassed her. “Is a good man,” she added hastily. Arin was, for the most part, still alive. For the most part. “Tell me of my mother.”

 

[Veroe]

IC: Aszabrael

His hand lowered to the region of her heart, the true one, between the legs, and then she slapped it away.

“You touch me like I’m so easily won,” and her tone was flirtatious, daring, as she swatted his hand away. “I may have fallen once, but a second time should require much more effort.”

A new light had crossed her eyes, and for the first time Aszabrael looked upon Danya's true self, but then it was gone, the lie of humanity she had wrapped around herself like a blanket smothered it. she crossed her hands over her mouth gasping, “I don’t...I don’t know why I said that.”

He smiled up at her running the hand she had slapped away seductively down his body, his eyes never leaving her. "I accept your challenge, Danya. I shall win you."

“My mother....?”

"Yes," He asked leadingly.

“What was she like?”

"Mmm..." He stretched atop her bed, his mucsles taut, like a cat begging to be stroked, "First answer my question, and then I will answer yours."

"Tell me of your lover, Danya. Why did you choose him to be the first you tasted?"

“Arin was a good man,” She answered before hastily adding, “Is a good man. Tell me of my mother."

"No, you haven't aswered mine sufficiently yet, Danya," He raised a finger and waggled it chidingly, "Why did you choose him to be the first man you fucked?"

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Win.

Such a small, simple little word, but it was laden with so much meaning. For long moments, she looked at him, studied him. Hoped for something close to what she knew of the word, of her world. Drawing in her lower lip, she bit it lightly. Her focus was now intent on his face, searching his eyes. Cold; inhuman.

“Win” indeed, just like some cheap parlor trick. Her eyes narrowed, and from within her, a little voice whispered in her ear.

This fool thinks that he has a right to me. Thinks that I can be won! Better yet, he thinks that he has the skills TO win me.

“....I did answer your question,” and her voice was sharper now, buffeted on a strange confidence that she hadn’t had before. Her nudity was no longer a point of shame now - but her own personal garment, finer than anything else she could have draped over herself. Stepping over her towel, she closed the distance between them. Now, standing over the bed, she looked down at him with eyes that held both contempt, boredom, and idle desire. Just as he was toying with her, she was toying with him.

“Arin is a good man, something a creature like you would not understand.”

Now, that was something different. It would originally appear that her two natures were dueling against each other, encouraged by him. But now....no, they were working in tandem. That...would make it interesting for him, now wouldn’t it?

“Now....” She leaned over him, her small frame leaning towards menacing, “Tell me about my mother.”

 

[Veroe]

IC: Aszabrael

"No, you haven't aswered mine sufficiently yet, Danya," He raised a finger and waggled it chidingly, "Why did you choose him to be the first man you fucked?"

“....I did answer your question,” She said with a sharp dangerous tone, like the drawing of a knife. She crossed over to the foot of the bed and hands on her hips looked down on him with contempt and boredom that fired his need and desire for her.

Her instincts were taking over, that was good. It was his presence around her, awakening her true self. He could even push it further...

“Arin is a good man," Sha asserted, "Something a creature like you would not understand.”

"Oh, I do understand, Danya," He smirked up at her cockily crossing his legs and idly wiggling her foot in the air. A dare to her to act on those new instincts rising to the surface. "We are always drawn to the good, the righteous, the innocent to devour, like bees to honey, but we are drawn to them to destroy them. The seduction, the corruption, and finally after we are done with them ruining them is the sweetest of all treats."

She leaned forward over him ominously. “Now....Tell me about my mother.”

"Your mother, Danya," He rose up on his elbows and looked into her eyes sultrily, "Anakashka was definitely not a good girl. You won't understand that, not yet, but in time, and with my guidance, you will take that as a point of pride." He chuckled lowly, "I knew your mother, Danya. She was my lover, my enemy, my companion, my slave, my mistress, my leader and my disciple. That answer will confuse you, but in time as you realize the truth of what I say."

"My turn now," He smiled and raised his foot brushing his toes over the smooth skin of thigh up toward the gates of paradise lost between her legs, "Did Arin kiss you here? Did he taste of your fount of pleasure? Did he pay you homage with foreplay, or was he like so many mortal men, just ignorantly and clumsily inserting himself for a minute of rutting before orgasm? Tell me, Danya, is that why you left a tiny sliver of him trapped inside his comatose body? Did you inflict that torment upon him as punishment, for being an incompetent lover?"

 

[Apollo Wilde]

“It had NOTHING to do with ruining him.” Her tone was sharp, controlled, measured. Yes, something inside of her was stirring, but it wouldn’t be an easy fight for him. As much arrogance as he had, did he honestly think that she would be any different? That she would bow to him? No, she had spent years learning to fight “natural” urges, either for religion or for propriety’s sake. This was nothing new. And yes, part of her hungered, burned, to mount his phallus and ride him until her pleasure was complete, but -

“My body is mine to give to whomever I desire. I gave it to him willingly. And,” she leaned over his body further. Her slim fingers trailed down his chest, focused on his nipples. And she pinched, firmly. “I am nothing like my mother. She left me.” Did his answer anger her? Perhaps. She had no mother, save for the human one that raised her. “So...” And her tone changed. Such duality in one so young! Seeing him...triggered something in her that she was trying to get a handle on. She was scared of him; he was new, strange, something out of legend....and yet she wasn’t. He was old, older than she could have imagined, but he offered her answers. She had to know.

As his foot trailed between her legs, she watched him. “He did not.” There was not remorse in her voice. “We are young. Devout. Wanted to experience each other. We had all the time in the world to explore each others’ bodies. The rest of our lives...” the cockiness of her voice faded, and tears made it ragged. They streamed down her cheeks now, silently. She did not wipe at them. “If there is a sliver of him,” she sighed, “Then there is still hope, and I will do whatever I can, if I can, bring him back. And if I am who you say I am, then it’s possible.”

“My turn,” and she unceremoniously sat down next to him. She was tired of standing, and even more weary of the games he played. “Do you even know what love is? That demon who you say was my mother...I think she did. I think she does.”

 

[Veroe]

IC: Aszabrael

“My turn,” and she unceremoniously sat down next to him. She was tired of standing, and even more weary of the games he played. “Do you even know what love is?"

"Love," He said with a derisive snort, "A quaint fantasy...a pleasant lie...a lie I prove to be false with every thought and deed. Such is our purpose in life. And I do so with relish. As will you, Danya, in time...you can't deny your true nature no matter how much you may want to. No one, no Incubus or Succubus can."

"That demon who you say was my mother...I think she did. I think she does.”

He looked away and sat up. Anakashka had fled from them, him, and no matter how hard he tried he could not fathom her reasons. Was it love, as ridiculous and foolish the concept was...he did feel a...a...Aszabrael felt a fondness for her and the times they spent in eachother's arms, at eachother's sweet and agonizing mercies, relishing the torment and condemnation of their victims together.

...There was a time before Lucifer's rebellion against He-Who-Is when he would've answered the affirmative, but that was long ago when he been nothing more than a fool. A slave to He-Who-Is' will.

He shook himself reminding himself of who he was now and the truth being cast out had taught him. He glanced over to her, "Do you wish to revive your lover, Danya, your Arin. It can be done. I can teach you how?"

 

[Apollo Wilde]

“You’re wrong, you know.” She spoke wit a confidence that belied her years and her mortality. With such certainty, it would be hard for him not to take it as anything short of a challenge. It was. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for her love - in one form or another. She may not have loved my father, but she loved me enough to hide me. Or at least revenge so much that she hid me. You knew her better, after all.”

And then he really caught her attention. “What do you mean...?”

It seemed too good to be true. Perhaps it was. After all, his kind wouldn’t be beyond lying, any sort of trickery to get what they wanted. But if there was some remote chance that she could help Arin, then she needed to take it. She’d been there at the hospital, day in, day out, and no one could tell how or why he’d ended up in the coma. It made Aszabrael’s story that much more credible....Arin was in the picture of health.

“Teach me.” It was less of a request than a demand. “Name your price.” Arin had taken her virginity - there was nothing too precious about her body now. And if she had to use it as a bargaining piece to bring health back to Arin, then it would be the least that she could do.

If you go this far, there’s no going back...whispered a voice in her head. If you go this far, you’ll never be anything close to pure. No one will love you. You will never have the life you so desire.

I don’t care. She gritted her teeth, squeezed her eyelids shut. It will be worth it if I can save his life.

"Teach me how to save his life."

 

[Veroe]

IC: Aszabrael

He shook himself reminding himself of who he was now and the truth being cast out had taught him. He glanced over to her, "Do you wish to revive your lover, Danya, your Arin. It can be done. I can teach you how?"

“What do you mean...?”

He smiled cockily, "I mean you can restore your human lover's lifeforce with small rations of others' or your own. It is a simple thing for our kind. Siphoning souls or energy, our own or someone else's, is the foundation of who we are and what we do, Danya." His smile turned devious as all the varied possibilities of manipulating the situation to destroy them both, she and Arin....pity his only intention was to use her attachment to her human lover to make her embrace her true self. "And it falls on me to teach you how to do it."

So Aszabrael watched as she thought it over. Finally she looked at him and said, “Teach me.”

It was not a request, more of an order, and Aszabrael laughed at the audacious impertinence...he could easily squash her like some insect crawling around on the floor....though he was more amused...even aroused by her demeanor...this should be fun. "Yes, I will, but the lessons come at a cost."

“Name your price.” Danya said with both resignation and determination.

He shook his head, "Such resolve, Danya. I wonder how long that will last." He rolled back to lying upon her bed, and reached up crossing his hands under his head on her pillow. "Your first lesson and your first challenge to overcome."

His hard proud cock at his command deflated. He smiled to her. "I have the first piece of the energy your dear lover needs to revive. You will have to earn it, I will not give it to you. Come and take it from me."

He watched her for a moment then added, "Come now, you have wanted this from the moment my mind touched yours in your dreams. Stop thinking and worrying like some whining helpless mortal and follow the instincts of the Succubus you truly are." He raised a cocky eyebrow at her, "Arouse me, Danya. Mount me. Make me come, and take what you want, what your Arin needs, from me."