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  • Incubus Ch. 03

Incubus Ch. 03

12

A cool autumn breeze greeted Kat as she exited the isolated century farmhouse that she shared with Damian. It lifted her coat and caressed her bare legs as she locked the door. Here, far from the city's lights, a swarm of stars populated the heavens. Silence reigned. The farmers who resided miles down the road were enjoying their last few hours of sleep before beginning their daily labors.

Damian's Porsche still sat in the inky darkness by the barn. It hadn't moved since they'd returned from the city on Monday. Damian had been uncharacteristically listless and silent on the drive home. Something had gone terribly wrong, and the foreign blood on his tongue only confused matters. It was human but bore unmistakable traces of the demonic. Damian could shed no light on whether he had somehow infused the blood with his own energy, or whether it was inherently so. The fact remained that this represented an unprecedented synthesis. Neither Kat nor Damian knew what to make of it.

Kat started her Range Rover and rolled slowly down the drive, gravel crunching loudly beneath the tires. The headlights illuminated the trees that stood like sentinels between the house and the dirt road.

Damian hadn't fed since that Monday, and in the intervening days he'd grown increasingly pale and lethargic, sleeping by day and pacing the house and grounds by night.

At first, Kat hadn't been unduly worried. There had been periods in the past during which Damian had exhibited similar symptoms. Periods during which he had failed to heed the essential difference between himself and his quarry and had developed an imprudent fondness for those he fed upon. Kat would berate him for his foolishness, for believing that the eagerness with which people surrendered to him was love and that it could blossom into something more. It could not.

You're a demon, she would remind him, not some horny adolescent.

And then he would huff and roll his eyes, just like an adolescent.

Eventually Damian would relearn that the quarry's relationship to the incubus was fuelled by lust. Nothing more. The incubus had a unique power to lowered inhibitions, imbued the victim with the permission to fulfill any carnal desire, the courage to cross the line, and the desire to embrace fear. The result in the end was lust, a hunger to sin and to sacrifice.

Eventually Damian would grow hungry and would once again distil that lust and fear into that which sustained him.

He would learn anew that any sentiment that polluted the relationship between demon and quarry invited trouble.

And there would pass a long period of stability -- years or even decades -- until he happened upon that one victim who would banish these lessons like leaves in a cool autumn breeze.

Earlier in the evening, Kat had asked Damian to accompany her on this run. They normally hunted alone because their tastes and methods differed and because they had no desire to see the other engaged in the very activity that was denied them as a couple. But tonight, Kat had wanted to keep an eye on him, to ensure that he received sustenance.

His response had given her a chill: "I don't hear the tone anymore."

It was the first inkling that Damian's moroseness stemmed from a cause more serious than unrequited love.

Not hearing the tone was not unlike a bat being unable to receive sonar signals. For a demon, the tone meant the ability to navigate, to find a suitable prey, and to feed. Its absence was unthinkable and suggested to Kat that this was beyond time's ability to heal and her ability to help. This was new and unknown. This was sickness.

She drove past a darkened farmhouse and projected herself into the rooms where people slept. There was no inkling of a meal there. Not that she wanted to feed in her own backyard, but it might have spared her a long drive.

She would feed at the university, about an hour's drive south. Over the time they'd been together, Kat and Damian had gravitated to university towns. More than any institution -- perhaps with the exception of convents and monasteries -- universities were reliable sources of nourishment. A large percentage of the students graduated each year, ensuring a healthy turnover. More importantly, young people responded well to their projections and returned strong tones, for their emotions were fresh, vibrant, and never too far from the surface. The promise of sin, they found, was often wasted on the old. Around a university, one modest projection could leave a demon awash in the ubiquitous feelings of youth: hostility, desperation, desire, and arousal.

Kat stopped at an intersection and turned onto an empty two-lane highway that led through some sleepy villages and eventually to one of the two universities in town. She was hungry. The clock on the dashboard showed three o'clock, late enough for the drunken undergrads to have fallen asleep, early enough for her to feed and return to Damian.

If Damian could no longer hear the tone, he would starve. He would be unable to locate anyone whose response to him combined the necessary susceptibility with longing.

***

Bryan Dueck was a large, strapping farm boy, away from home for the first time. Caught between his parents' religion, his own barely-suppressed desire, and thousands of young female undergrads who flaunted their youthful sexuality with carefree abandon, Bryan's tone had drawn Kat like a magnet.

When she first met him, he'd been about ready to explode.

She was happy to help him reach his potential.

On the first night, Kat dispensed with the usual demonic foreplay -- the teasing, leering, and taunting. Instead, she straddled his chest, facing his feet, lowered herself, and took him into her mouth. Just like that.

He was hard almost immediately. He thrashed around, as though dreaming of drowning or of being crushed, while simultaneously raising his hips in an effort to impale her face. A true multi-tasker. Kat drew him into her, enjoying the sleepy confusion and savoring his agitation.

He ejaculated before he awoke fully, hot, expansive geysers typical of the young. Kat lapped it up, absorbing the contradiction between his bodily pleasure and his subconscious fear.

When he was spent, Kat curled up next to him, with her head on his shoulder and his cock in her hand.

He took a shallow breath, as though afraid that anything deeper would disperse the illusion. "You're real."

"Mmm." Kat pinched one of his nipples between her fingernails.

"Who... who are you?"

"Kat."

She stroked him, enjoying his confusion. She could feel the stirrings of life beneath her fingers. She loved the young.

"I don't know you, do I?"

"No."

"Okay."

His hand tentatively stoked her back. She smiled and snuggled a little closer.

"Do you know what I want to do?" she asked.

"What?"

"I'd like to fuck you now."

She thrilled at the jolt of apprehension and desire that suffused him. She found that she was hungry again. Calling the preamble an appetizer, she eagerly tucked into the main course.

On the second meeting, he asked if he could take her out to dinner.

So cute, thought Kat, his wanting to be a gentleman.

"You don't have to. Besides, I'm not hungry."

"Oh." He sounded disappointed.

"For food, I mean."

What she meant and what he thought she meant were different, but amounted to the same thing. Bryan smiled shyly.

"Besides, I'd prefer to fuck you."

"Okay." Bryan blushed.

He was so cute.

The third meeting took place a couple of weeks after the last. Kat had been foraging -- evaluating prospects, snacking while they slept, and building up an inventory. Bryan wouldn't last forever, after all.

Bryan had been considerably less afraid the last time. It was charming that he'd so easily grown accustomed to her nocturnal visits, but Kat needed him on edge. This wasn't a partnership of equals. The experienced incubus and succubus could balance lust and fear, raise the intensity of each in a careful dance of risk and reward, of dread and ecstasy, and compel the subject to satisfy that which they feared most. It was the energy of that fragile balance that nourished.

Kat had allowed Bryan to take charge, and he rose above her like a rustic Adonis, pinned within the vee of her upraised legs. Lean muscles bunched, veins popped. A sheen of sweat bathed him.

A spring squeaked loudly and he froze like a deer caught in the headlights. Lifting her in his strong arms, he maneuvered her to a different position on the bed.

There was silence but for the occasional clap of flesh and muted moan.

"Fuck me hard," she whispered.

Bryan dutifully complied.

Kat squealed and drew her legs back. "Harder," she commanded, louder this time.

"Shh," whispered Bryan.

"What?"

"You have to keep it down. Hell, you shouldn't even be here," whispered Bryan as he slid in and out of her like a piston. "Besides, this is a Catholic college..."

Kat tightened herself around him.

"Mmm, that's good," he continued. "Not to mention the fact that this is a Catholic residence."

"And they'd frown on you fucking someone?"

"I wish you'd stop saying that."

"What?"

"The F word."

"Fuck?"

"Yeah, that one."

"Okay."

"They'd frown me right out of here."

Bryan resumed his previous pace and was quickly on the threshold. For a relative novice, thought Kat, he was good.

Bryan closed his eyes and his movements grew erratic.

"Make love to meeeeee!" Kat bellowed, eschewing the F word. "Haaaard!"

Bryan's fear peaked as he came.

Doors could be heard opening in the hallway.

"Oh, FUCK!"

"Oh, God," whispered Bryan.

Kat lapped it up. The thrill of fear, the pulse of lust. Perfect.

This was their fourth meeting. Kat's experience told her that it would likely be their last. He had satisfied her greatly, had sinned with uncontained enthusiasm, but she had no desire to consume him to the point of emptiness or to see him kicked out of his residence.

Despite his irritation with her immodesty the last time, he was going sweet on her. The fear and guilt of their first meetings was now replaced by an expectant lust. It saddened Kat, but it just wouldn't do. She regretted that their relationship was coming to an end -- Bryan was a sweet and innocent boy -- but lust alone did not nourish her. Lust had to be tempered with fear, and fear was increasingly difficult to instil in him. Too much fear turned the meal sour; an absence of fear turned it sweet. She didn't need empty calories, she thought wryly.

Kat parked opposite Bryan's residence. She projected her thoughts into the building and caught Bryan's tone at once. He was ripe. She ignored him for the moment and scoured the building. Most of the students were asleep but a few were studying, even at this hour. There was little risk of discovery.

She made her way into the building and slipped expertly into his room. He snored gently.

Kat willed him awake.

He opened his eyes and smiled. "Kat," he said sleepily, "I hoped you would come."

She could see tenderness in his eyes. How easily the young confused sex with love. How she envied them for their ability to consummate the latter.

"I told you I would."

She remembered how he'd been mortified the first time. She almost had to rape him, though he stammered his gratitude when it was over. His fear of getting caught with a woman in his room had infused his lust. Bryan had fed her well.

Kat pulled back the sheets and saw that he was already erect. They built them large on the farm, she thought. She smiled sadly in the darkness.

"Won't you be a gentleman and take my coat?"

Bryan rose and eagerly complied, slipping off the coat, revealing her bare shoulders.

She faced away from him. She unclasped her hair and dark tresses cascaded over her shoulders. She had chosen her wardrobe carefully, selecting a black leather underbust corset that highlighted the fullness of her breasts and the narrow circumference of her waist. A leather choker adorned her neck. Judging by Bryan's increased heart rate, she knew that she'd chosen well; this was more than he'd bargained for.

Kat turned to face him. She could feel the heat of his gaze as his eyes tore themselves away from her breasts and stroked down her lean torso. She allowed him this visual feast. His eyes paused at the garter straps that framed her pussy, with its neat exclamation mark of hair rising above a glittering ring. The ring, a souvenir from her time in what was now the Czech Republic, pierced the base of the clitoral hood where it met the inner labia. The ring had no beginning and no end, and featured two little horns that seemed to glow in the darkness. Bryan studied it, as though he had never seen it before. It was quite possible that he hadn't; his attention in the past had been focussed elsewhere. His eyes traced the length of Kat's toned legs, encased in black stockings, which ended in a pair of black stilettos that for most were better suited to pointing at the ceiling than walking.

Kat approached him and leaned her forearms on his powerful shoulders. She kissed him and ran the tip of her tongue over the curve of his lips. His farm-calloused hands wrapped around her. They caressed her buttocks and ran up over the laces of her corset. She shivered and arched her back, pressing herself into him. His hands stopped at two bumps that Kat had deliberately allowed to develop on either side of her upper spine.

"What are those?" Bryan asked, concern in his voice.

"Oh those? Nothing. Don't worry about it."

She pushed him to the bed and straddled him. She grabbed his wrists and held them down on either side of his head. She felt the pulse beneath the skin.

"Tough girl," he said, smiling.

"You don't know the half of it." She leaned forward pressed his face into the cleft between her breasts. The stubble on his cheeks scraped her tender skin as she slid one breast and then the other over his face. Her nipple tickled his lips, which readily opened to accept her. He sucked each nipple when offered. He'd learned quickly what she liked.

Kat sat up, still holding his wrists. Bryan tried to raise his hands and found that he couldn't. The veins bulged in his forearms, so she lessened her grip. A bitter undercurrent of uncertainty now flavored the sweetness of his confidence. Kat smiled inwardly at his consternation that he could not budge her.

Kat maneuvered herself over him. His cock rose to meet the entrance of her pussy, barely splitting her lips. She maintained her position, savoring his hardness and his heat. He lifted his hips and she moved with him, teasingly.

"Don't be so impatient," said Kat.

He groaned.

She lowered herself onto him by slow increments, withdrawing when his eagerness hurried her pace. She let go of his wrists. His glans brushed her g-spot and Kat held it there, enjoying the gentle pressure, angling her pelvis to increase it. Bryan fondled her breasts and gazed at her.

Kat opened herself to him, feeling his energy, soaking it up like an appetizer.

His desire soared. No doubt, thought Kat, he regarded himself the luckiest guy on earth.

Kat allowed her tail to emerge behind her. Keeping it hidden was no trouble, but allowing it freedom during the act was exhilarating, a rare pleasure. With its tip, she stroked his inner thigh.

"What's that?"

"What?"

"I feel something between my legs."

"Your cock. I have it." She lowered herself and tightened the muscles around him. He moaned and momentarily forgot the phantom sensation.

Kat rode him more quickly now and rocked her hips back and forth.

Bryan's breathing came in gasps now.

Time to slow down.

"Why are you stopping?"

Kat said nothing and Bryan opened his eyes. "What's with your eyes? They're glowing."

"Must be my contacts," murmured Kat. She rose and held his glans tightly within her, contracting and releasing her muscles at an impossible rate while swivelling her hips in a lazy figure eight. She could feel the blood coursing through his hard cock. She allowed herself some enjoyment, revelling in his youthful hardness and the delicious pressure of his cock within her. She picked up the rhythm.

She stroked the inside of his thigh again, insinuating the tip of her tail between his legs to linger at his balls.

Kat felt his heart rate quicken.

His brow furrowed as he tried to reconcile this feeling with her known anatomy. A growing fear battled with his desire.

Kat threw her head back. Perfect, she thought. Perfect.

As she tightened herself around him and bore down, lips kissing his thick base, she unfurled white gossamer wings from the bumps Bryan had noted earlier. She extended them with a loud crack.

Bryan's eyes grew wide. Kat ground her hips into him and pinched his nipples between her sharp fingernails. He whimpered. "Are you an angel?"

Kat laughed, but not unkindly. "I get that all the time."

She increased her efforts. Her vaginal muscles worked him furiously and her tail explored the sensitive spots between his legs. She had to be careful now.

He was so close. So close. She could feel him trembling, mind and body careening down different paths.

Her eyes glowed hotly as she observed him. Gleaming ivory horns materialized at the top of her head.

His cock spasmed. "I get that all the time," she repeated. "I'm really the opposite."

She impaled herself viciously upon him, a dark angel. She saw the awareness of her true nature dawn on him. Horror mingled with the height of arousal. He came in hot spurts that warmed Kat from the inside. She drank him in, his cum, the energy of his confusion, the passion and the terror. He filled her and she drank it up.

He tried to climb out from under her even as he spurted the last of his seed into her.

She restrained him a moment longer, feeling his dying pulses within her, lapping up his energy. With some regret she stopped feeding and let him go. Kat had played him masterfully. She was sated.

She furled her wings behind her and concentrated for a few moments. The horns and tail vanished, and the wings, so large in the narrow confines of the room, disappeared as though they had never been. She appeared before him as she had upon entering: small, knowing, and imminently desirable.

Bryan had crawled off the bed and now cowered in a corner of the room. He flinched as she approached. Good, she thought. She hadn't pegged him as a violent one.

"We won't see each other again," she said.

He watched her mutely, eyes wide.

"We had a good time, though, didn't we?"

Nothing. Perhaps he was going into shock. It wouldn't be the first time that had happened.

"Don't worry. You aren't evil. You aren't going to hell. The fact that you aided and abetted the enemy stays strictly between us, okay? Unless, of course, you want to confess. But that's entirely up to you."

Bryan smiled slightly. His first sign of life.

Normally Kat would have left him after taking her fill, leaving him to construct walls of denial as best he could. Something made her stay, a desire to mitigate the damage. She thought of Damian.

"You won't be back?" asked Bryan quietly.

Kat shook her head sadly.

"Good." Bryan stood. "Get the fuck out of my room."

So much for sweetness, thought Kat. She grabbed her coat and left without a word.

Kat drove the streets of the sleeping town. Bryan's energy coursed through her, alive and intoxicating. Her route took her to a nondescript three-storey apartment block where Britt lived.

Kat had been able to extract the name of Damian's last encounter. Incubi generally guarded the identities of their victims, but Kat posed little risk as she did not compete with him. A quick search on the internet provided an address.

She climbed the stairs to the third floor and paused outside of Britt's apartment. The silence at this hour of the morning was oppressive. Kat projected widely and received the expected responses from all around her, except from Britt's apartment.

12
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