Julian #2
Is he truly my little bunny, or a snake in disguise?
I want to rip him apart, piece by piece, and find out.
“Before—” Atlas pauses, shuddering at whatever it is he’ll say next, “We do anything… more, we need to talk.”
“Okay,” I draw slowly, moving until I’m sitting at the foot of his bed, facing him.
Atlas studies my face again, observing me as he gathers himself. He seems serious; I find myself growing anxious about whatever it is he thinks we need to discuss.
Has he changed his mind? Will he not let me help him?
“You should know what you’re getting yourself into. You should know exactly who you’re touching.” The way he says it, Atlas sounds as if he’s disgusted with himself.
“Then tell me,” I demand, “exactly who I’ll be touching.”
He swallows thickly, his throat working in the dim light of the moon coming in from the window on his ceiling.
Atlas’s eyes fall to his own hands for a moment, where they fiddle in his lap, before he takes on a look of pained determination and stares at me head-on.
“I know you saw it once… what the incubus does. But did you understand it? I mean… you want to touch a man who’s been defiled by a demon? You would willingly taint yourself that way?”
There are so many things I want to comment on from those few sentences alone, but my mind is stuck on one singular fact.
“A demon? Is that what an incubus is?” I ask.
Atlas’s brows furrow. “Did you not look it up? I figured you would, after I told you and all.”
“Well—” I’m flushing, trying to hide my embarrassment. “I wasn’t sure if your father could see what I searched on his Wi-Fi.”
It’s true. I was going to Google it before I went to bed last night, but I was too scared of someone finding the proof and connecting the dots.
The corner of Atlas’s lip lifts slightly, his blue eyes softening.
“I see,” he murmurs. “I’ll explain it to you then. An incubus is a demon from hell, one that feeds off the energy it can extract from humans. And the way they extract it is through both the human and the incubus itself… uh…”
He begins to flush, his eyes bouncing around the room as he tries to find the right word.
“Orgasming?” I offer.
He cringes. “Yes. Orgasming.”
“Okay. So this incubus started coming here and feeding off your energy through sex? It makes sense that it’s a demon—the thing is terrifying to look at.”
“I wouldn’t know.” Atlas shrugs. “I can’t see or move when it comes; it’s all feeling and sound. Almost like a dream.”
What?
“So… you’ve never even seen the thing fucking you?” I ask.
A flash of shame coats Atlas’s features, and he nods once.
“Yeah,” he whispers. “I haven’t… I just know how it feels. And that it has the anatomy of a man.”
“Wow,” I breathe. “That sounds scary. And when it’s done, you’re left in a flare-up, right? Does it leave behind any… evidence? Who all knows about this?”
Questions come pouring out of me, and I find myself leaning forward as I wait for his response. I think I’m anxious.
Atlas sighs. “No, I’m not left in a flare-up after it touches me.
Sometimes they happen because it hasn’t touched me for too long, and my body is used to expelling that sexual energy.
Or sometimes, it stays in a state of need after it’s done for the same reason: it doesn’t take as much energy as I have to offer, and I’m left with this heat that is borderline painful. ”
He’s picking at the hem of his baby blue sleep shorts, his gaze downcast. I can feel the tension and anxiety rolling off his body in waves, and though I’ve spent the past so many hours daydreaming about this exact moment and what it would mean for my libido, I’m starting to realize that this situation is more painful than I’ve made it out to be in passing.
“And my parents, some of the staff, and Atticus know,” Atlas continues.
“But there isn’t much they can do. We tried everything: sleeping in the same rooms, prayer, switching locations.
Nothing helps. If I fall asleep, there is a high probability the incubus shows up, and there is nothing we can do to stop it. ”
“I see,” I murmur.
Suddenly, the pained, panicked expression Atticus wore the night he barred me from entering the west tower makes a lot more sense.
He knew exactly what his baby brother was dealing with and could do nothing to help.
I can’t even imagine what that must have felt like; how useless and stressed Atticus must feel.
“It leaves no evidence, either. Other than the marks or my own, uh, fluids. I can feel it, though. When it comes, I mean.” Atlas flushes further, embarrassed and seemingly surprised by how much he’s sharing.
“What does it feel like?” I ask him, suddenly very curious.
His eyes lift to meet mine, and in them I can read the fear, the hesitance, and, shockingly, the slight heat. Almost as if just talking about the violent sex he suffers through turns him on.
“It’s cool and thick. It doesn’t feel like…” He takes a deep breath. “It doesn’t feel how mine feels.”
“Have you ever experienced anyone else’s? Other than the incubus’s or your own?” My voice is low and cautious.
I find that I’m nervous to hear his answer. There is only one response that will please me—and one that will drive me mad.
“No,” he mutters. “Just mine and the cool, thick substance that makes me feel so full that I could vomit from it.”
I shudder, my eyes falling from where they were connecting with his to where his stomach is covered with his silk, short-sleeved button-up.
How deep does that incubus have to go to make him feel so full? Would I feel like nothing in comparison?
“Do you… Do you like it? Feeling that full?” I push, and I know I’m asking questions that could potentially spawn answers that will crush me, but I just can’t seem to shut up.
“Yeah,” Atlas replies, and our eyes connect once again. He looks relieved to admit it. “I like feeling so full.”
“I don’t think I can offer you that,” I admit, my own tone containing a hint of embarrassment and slight disappointment. “I don’t think I have the equipment for that.”
I’m big, but I’m not that big. I saw the incubus’s cock when it was hard and angry—I don’t compare.
But Atlas just grins, his eyes twinkling once again in the moonlight. “You don’t have to make me nauseous, Julian. I just need you to make me feel full. To help me expend that energy when I feel like I might explode.”