Chapter Three
ARCHIE PULLED HIS clothes up with shaking hands.
His cock was limp now, whatever arousal he’d had a moment ago washed away and his bare skin felt too vulnerable.
When the demon had been in his head, Archie could pretend that it was all in his head.
A product of an overactive imagination, a lonely man indulging in a fantasy.
But the moment the demon had spoken aloud, Archie knew what had happened. What he'd done.
Demons tempted humans all the time, in their dreams and in their nightmares.
That's what demons did. That was why the king needed a treaty with demons in the first place.
And Archie had just gone and given way immediately, letting a demon feed on his weakness.
Archie wrapped his arms around himself, rubbing the raised hairs down his arms. Why did something so sinister feel so good?
He avoided looking at the mirror. No doubt it was still there, lurking, waiting for him to want again.
Is wanting so wrong?
Archie flinched. Oh gods, it could still read his thoughts.
Only the loud ones.
"Who are you?" Archie said aloud, shuffling along to pick up the blanket on the floor. He didn't want to risk turning his back on the mirror.
You may call me Damaris.
Damaris. Even the shape of it felt luxurious in Archie's mouth as he imagined saying it.
He threw the blanket over the mirror again, releasing a breath with a shudder.
His relief was short-lived though. The shadows under his feet flickered and twirled, tendrils of it creeping up his calves. "What do you want with me?"
I told you. I want what you want. Again, those images of men flickered through Archie's mind. All of them in perfectly innocent contexts, but Archie blushed anyway. And you want so very badly.
"You want to feed off my – my desire for men.
" Archie's throat tightened as if that would stop the words coming out.
Even saying it out loud felt obscene. He'd never told anyone about it.
He avoided even thinking about it as much as possible, treating as some unfortunate ailment that needed dealing with every now and then.
It was just that he hadn't sorted himself out in a while, which was why he had all this pent-up energy now, and why he'd been weak to a succubus demon looking to get a foothold in the human world.
I can take your desire and satisfy it within you. Wouldn't it be nice not to want so very much?
Damaris' voice in his head sounded so reasonable.
That was how Archie knew it was a trick of some sort.
Demons didn't just appear and offer to take away a human's darkest worry for no price.
He wanted to ask what Damaris wanted in return.
He bit his tongue before he could do it, and the pain cleared his head a little.
He forced himself to say instead: "And if I say no? "
That would be a shame. Damaris sounded genuinely regretful.
There was a sound that almost sounded like a sigh.
In the span of a breath, a surge of desire washed over Archie so strongly that he staggered.
He collapsed backwards onto the bed as it overcame him.
The shock felt like plunging his entire body into a hot spring at once, Archie's entire body felt sunburned, raw and sensitive.
And full, as if he were an overfilled waterskin, his insides pressing against his skin, close to bursting.
The shadows had enveloped his body again while he hadn't been paying attention and now they moved, a swirling mass of darkness that blotted out his vision.
He cried out in fear, and the darkness rushed in, thick and filling him so Archie couldn't close his mouth. He gasped around that velvet warmth.
The shadows writhed over him, the weight of them keeping him pinned to the bed.
They wrapped around his limbs, sliding and pushing until the demon had Archie's arms above his head and his legs spread wide.
The demon wasn't real, wasn't corporeal; it didn't need to strip Archie of his clothing to caress his cock, to slide a sliver of a shadow below his waist and around his back.
He tried to squirm away. It wasn't real, it wasn't corporeal.
As long as he kept repeating that, kept thinking it, it would be true.
The demon didn't have any power unless he gave it power.
A flicker of emotion, in the back of his mind, from Damaris, at his attempt.
Tears leaked from Archie's eyes, hot and sudden, at the humiliation, as something touched the slit of his cock, the line where it was too sensitive.
His hips jerked of their own accord. He was trying to get away from the touch, he tried to tell himself.
A burst of pain sent stars into Archie's blurry vision.
His nipple — the demon had pinched his nipple.
He screamed, or tried to, and the shadows caressed down inside his throat.
He swallowed, trying to ignore the weight on his tongue, the way it scratched an itch he hadn't even known he had.
He wanted it to choke him, to fill him until he couldn't breathe.
The shadows crept over Archie's eyes completely, blocking out all light.
He could only feel now, the way the shadows — the demon, Damaris — moved over his body.
It didn't have a human form, it wasn't limited to two hands.
There were shadows that brushed over his nipples, too hard and sensitive with each touch.
A firm pressure grasped his cock, with a rhythmic caress of his slit.
It was too much, almost painful. Yet more hands held his hips down and legs apart as he buckled.
And finally, a soft, teasing pressure between his ass.
It wasn't quite there, it wasn't enough.
Archie sobbed. He wanted it. He wanted it all.
A shame, repeated Damaris, amusement radiating a soft glow inside Archie's chest. And then he was gone.
Archie lay on the bed for a long time, shaking.
His limbs felt disconnected from his body, ungainly as he tried to heave himself upright.
Failing that, he let himself slide off the bed until he was huddled against its side.
He noted absently that he must have come at some point, a dark stain on the front of his underwear.
He didn't remember it. He peeled the stained underwear off, shoving it under the bed as if that could hide the shame.
When Archie swallowed, his throat hurt. He swallowed anyway, feeling the pull of it, and couldn't figure out if it had been from being forced open or from his screams. His nipples were still hard, but now it was from the cold.
He pressed his palms over his chest to try and warm himself up and winced at how sensitive the skin felt.
He'd survived it. Archie had been tempted by a demon and he had resisted it. Why, then, did he feel so empty?
There was no way Archie would be able to sleep here tonight.
He couldn't be certain the demon was gone and even if it had, the rumpled bed and the covered mirror were too much for him to bear dealing with.
He pulled on a robe and staggered out, his entire body aching like the afternoon after a morning swim.
He'd curl up on the couch in the reception room for tonight.
He arranged a book fallen open on the ground next to him, hoping his parents would assume he fell asleep reading and ask no questions.
He wrapped his arms around himself, and he could almost imagine it was like being hugged from behind, until exhaustion overtook him.
Archie didn't remember falling asleep, only that it must have happened at some point, for he woke with an ache in his neck and his arm numb from where he had lain on it.
He vaguely remembered half-waking in fits and starts, once when his parents got home, another time when he had tried to roll over and met the back of the couch, and yet a third when some servant had come in the morn and started to see him there. He felt rested not at all.
"Dearest, you look awful. Have you looked at yourself this morning?
" asked his mother as he picked at the breakfast a maid had left him on a tray.
She was already dressed for visiting. Today was Tuesday, which meant she had her ladies' painting group at Lady Girnham's.
She pawed at her bag and withdrew her hand mirror, frowning when Archie flinched at the sight of it. No shadows.
Archie glanced at himself only cursively before handing the mirror back to her, lest the demon, Damaris, whatever his name was, came for him again. No doubt she meant his pale skin and dark eyes. "I had some strange dreams last night."
"That's what happens when you fall asleeping reading fanciful novels," said his mother with a tut, but she still straightened his collar before she left.
When left to his own devices again, Archie finally summoned enough courage to enter his room.
There was no sign of anything unusual, demonic or…
otherwise. The maids had come in to clean so the bed was freshly made, the blanket he'd thrown over the mirror replaced neatly on the bed.
He was almost disappointed. If there had been some lingering sign, some stain or rumple, at least he could have reassured himself that last night had really happened and he'd done the right thing.
He glanced furtively into the mirror and once again, nothing was there.
Archie fetched a new outfit for the day.
He didn't dare turn his back on the mirror, but he also didn't want to accidentally look at himself undressed in it, so he changed with speed.
It wasn't until he was on his way out that he saw — or, he thought he saw — a flicker of something in the mirror.
He fled and forced the door closed behind him before he could look back to check.