Chapter Two #2
There was a breeze, the cool edge of it catching on his bare skin, enough that Archie could pretend it was a kiss, or a tongue.
His hand tightened as he felt the pressure build.
He was close now. He breathed in, and with it came the earthy scent of moss.
Cloying, heavy, thick enough that Archie choked around it.
It felt heavy on his skin, like a blanket.
That made no sense, a smell was just a smell.
He must have not latched the window properly.
He shivered as another sliver of wind curled across his too-sensitive bare skin.
It wasn't wind. The realization came to him suddenly.
Archie should be alarmed. But something fogged his mind, soothing the confusion.
Archie moved his hand again and it didn't feel like his hand against his own cock.
He knew what his hand felt like, he was (tragically) intimately familiar with it.
It felt like his hand, but bigger. He went to push himself up onto his elbows but his body felt too heavy.
It receded, just for a moment, just enough for Archie to let go.
Except his hand wouldn't move. It remained, fisted around his cock.
Let go, he told himself, except his hand moved of his own accord, slow and languid up and down his cock.
It felt good. Exactly how he imagined it would feel to have a lover whose hand clasped over his.
Let go, he told himself, even as his body betrayed him, his hips pumping up to meet his hand.
He didn't want to let go. He wanted this to carry on forever.
"Who," Archie tried to say, and the sound came out strange.
Muffled. His mouth filled with that a pressure, a press that felt like hands or lips or tongues, it caressed the inside of his mouth.
He groaned. He'd never been kissed before, didn't know if it felt like this, but if it felt even a fraction like this, he never wanted it to stop.
Demon, his mind supplied, but the thought washed away the moment he thought of it, chased by the delicious haze of the moss-filled air. He tried to say it aloud before it slipped completely.
"Demon." The words sounded strange in his mouth, his tongue heavy, the sounds dissipating as if someone sucked the words out of his mouth.
His hand, the demon's hand, whatever it was, tightened around Archie's cock, so enough that it hurt.
He cried out, gasping as it loosened. Archie was harder than he'd ever been.
He could feel the rush of blood to his head, the heady sweep of desire.
The demon, for surely it must have been a demon, complied.
His hand squeezed as Archie snapped his hips up into it, tight around his base.
The pain burst like starlight in his eyes, this time holding on for long enough that Archie screamed.
He'd never felt like that before. Had never known that pleasuring himself even could feel like that.
He jerked his hand away and this time his hand obeyed him.
He flexed his hand, clenching it into a fist and releasing it, checking over and over that he could control himself again.
His body still felt heavy, like a heavy blanket pulling him down, but this time, when he tried to sit up, he could claw himself upright.
Archie didn't need to look down. He could feel his cock, the bob of it against his inner thigh, an ache in his stomach that wished he hadn’t stopped.
Embarrassment flooded him, a surge of it so fast that he could feel the heat in his face.
He reached for the bedside table until he found a lamp string.
The warm orange light was dim, but it was enough.
When Archie looked down, his hand was surrounded by that same inky darkness he’d seen in the mirror earlier, a gathering of shadowy tendrils that moved as he moved. Archie lurched the two steps to the mirror, his cock still out, obscenely erect against his stomach, and flung the blanket off.
In the reflection, a dark wispy sheen blanketed his entire body, a caress against his skin everywhere it touched him.
Archie opened his mouth, gasped when the shadows filled his mouth.
It wasn’t solid, but neither was it like smoke.
Thick, substantial and coating the inside of his mouth.
He had to cough to expel it, twice, before he could force the word out.
“Succubus.” It had to be. Archie knew of no other demon that could overwhelm a person’s senses in this way.
And then, all of a sudden, it was there. The shadows stopped drifting, and Archie got the sense they had consolidated, even though shadows didn’t move like that.
Clever boy. The demon was behind him. So close that Archie could feel the tickle of its energy, for that was surely what the shadows were, against his back.
Its words caressed the back of his neck and his knees buckled.
It caught him, a velvet embrace of darkness wrapped around his waist that kept him standing, and then Archie could hear a soft sound like breathing.
Laughter, he realized, that tickled his skin, and then he saw it in the mirror, a tendril that flicked out near his ear and ran down the shell of his ear.
Archie felt his gut clench in pleasure, saw his eyes dilate in his reflection. So did the demon, he knew, because it did it again.
What do you want from me, Archie thought at it.
He clamped his mouth shut, he didn't trust himself with words at the moment, because the only thing he wanted to do was beg it for more.
His jaw ached with how hard he kept it vised together.
It could read his thoughts, he knew. It had, earlier, when he had been thinking of —
Large hands, full lips. Thighs. Deft wrist. That was the demon. A taunt, but also a reply. I want what you want.
The darkness rippled and Archie could almost see it, the outline of a hand that drew out of the shadows. It drifted over his hip, gentle, a tease.
“No,” exhaled Archie, trying not to let any of his thoughts leak out to it. “No, I don’t — want this.” The lie sat thick on his tongue.
The demon stilled. No? It slowly, deliberately, dragged against the fabric, stopping just shy of his cock. Archie’s traitorous body melted into it.
“No,” said Archie again, except this time it sounded like please.
Very well. The shadows disappeared. Archie watched them disappear in the mirror, there was suddenly nothing bracing him upright and he sagged sideways onto the bed like a marionette with its strings cut. He gasped, and breathed in the smell of rain and damp. No more moss, no heavy air.
Tears filled Archie’s eyes as he shivered from a sudden sense of loss and his cock ached, unsated. Panic welled. “Wait—”
His mouth stuck. No, not his mouth. Archie couldn’t move at all, as if an enormous hand was cupped around his jaw.
He felt it draw him upwards, pull on his neck as he scrambled to his feet.
He had to stand on tiptoe and he got the sense of it standing behind him, cradling him upright.
He felt his hair ruffle with some wind, which moved downwards like an invisible velvet dragging across every inch of his skin.
He saw the shadows ripple, peeling off his body and dissipating into the air.
Archie’s head cleared, somewhat. The demon had had him in some fog, clouded with desire, and it must have siphoned that wanton lust off him now, breathing it in.
It had fed on him, on his shameful, hidden desires.
He should feel terrified, or disgusted, maybe. But all he wanted was to feel it again.
“You are a delicacy, Archibald of Russex.” This time, the words were real. Whispered, yes, into the curve of his ear, a secret only for him to hear, but out loud nevertheless. Archie shivered.