Malcubus Ch. 08: Shaken, Then Stirred

+++++Author's Notes+++++

As always this story is very much about sex, but be warned there are over 6000 words before anyone actually gets naked this chapter. No hard feelings if you're not that patient.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"This is fake," the bouncer said, barely looking at Rosmerta's proffered ID.

He had a good eye. The magical illusion had only been generated when my succubus's hand went into her (also illusory) purse.

She made puppy eyes that would have given me heart palpitations if I'd caught them head on, but the bouncer was unswayed even when Rosie leaned forward to display more cleavage. I pulled her out of the club's line before she caused too many public erections.

"I really thought that would work," Rosie said with a frown.

"You could totally pass for 21," I said without much conviction. "Maybe he's, like, got an instinct for magic? Sensed the bad juju coming off you?"

"He's gay," she said with the casual certainty of a demon specializing in Lust.

I gestured helplessly around the riverside plaza. "Well I'm not flirting with him so I guess Sunday's is out. I'll have to text Warren."

"No, that sucks!"

"Yeah, you dressed conservatively and everything," I snarked.

It had been an odyssey to convince Rosie to wear something that would keep her lady parts hidden in the event of stairs or a stiff breeze. We'd eventually compromised with a slinky green dress, calf-hugging stockings, and 4-inch heels that she handled with the ease of a red carpet actress. The dress wasn't so bad apart from the slits in the sides or the nipples pressing themselves against the fabric like gawking children at the zoo. No, it was the dark green collar that had me worried.

"It's a choker," she had insisted. "Lace, very classy. Trust me, I'm a woman."

"No you're not."

"I'm female, it counts. And if I don't wear this, how can I show people that you own me?" I'd gurgled a little bit at that, and Rosie had batted her eyelashes at me. "There'll be other guys at the club, you know. Don't want them stealing me away from you. Maybe you should keep me on a leash..."

I had conceded that the choker wasn't too awful.

"Alright," Rosie sighed, clapping her hands. "I wasn't sure I'd be strong enough for this yet, but we did break a taboo today, so let's give it a whirl."

"Give what a - "

She took my hand in hers and pulled me tight against her warm body. That was very comfortable indeed, but the blazing green witch-fire in her eyes and the heat-haze shimmer around us was not so. I wondered if this would be the first genuine case of magic to finally make it to Youtube.

"Rosie, stop it now!" I said in my loudest whisper.

"Quiet, master," she whispered back, leading me forward. Her eyes had stopped glowing, but the hazy shimmer remained around us. "We're invisible, not inaudible."

And she led us right past the queue, the bouncer, and into the club.

***

The kiss I received in the foyer upstairs was passionate, heated, and hit my heart like a fistful of cocaine. In other words, it was a pretty standard kiss from Rosmerta. It was very hard to pull away, especially when I opened her eyes and saw her perfect face once more. "I know I'm meant to be more impressed by the superheroics just then," I said, "but you look so fucking beautiful right now."

She frowned. "Hopefully not too beautiful when we're out like this. I want to make you look good, not draw all the attention. Tonight's about you scoring, remember?"

I stepped in closer to her, not even caring about the other people in the foyer staring. "Pretty sure I've already scored."

"Aw, you're sweet," she grinned, then slapped me on the ass. "Bad Eric. You're at a club, you won't get anywhere with sweet."

"I've got you, don't I?"

"You do," she allowed, "but staying in your bedroom with me for the rest of your life is like - "

"The best way to die of dehydration ever?"

She smirked and tugged me towards the club proper. "Come on. Seduce me a nice, juicy meal and I'll give you a present."

"That's, uh, motivational."

We got some weird looks as we went inside.

Sunday's was a fairly upmarket club, so we weren't blown away by thousand-decibel bass or the stink of sweat as we entered. Saturday was their busiest night (to the disappointment of etymologists everywhere), and not a small percentage of those revellers we passed cut their conversations short to stare at Rosie's ass. She resisted the temptation to wiggle her hips for them, and kept her waist glued to mine.

There was a decent throng massing on the dance floor, and crowds clustered around the two bars like ants on sugar. Rosie said something to me, then repeated it at a yell over the music.

"I'll get some drinks! You find Warren!"

"You'll be okay?"

She didn't dignify that with a response. I, along with four other guys and two of the women with them, watched her ass sway as she walked away.

Half of Sunday's was a massive balcony on the river's edge, dotted with tables, gas heaters and a cocktail bar. Out here you could smoke, sit down, and best of all: hear yourself think.

Warren was playing Waldo, so I stood semi-awkwardly by myself for a few minutes. Clubs weren't really my natural habitat, even if I was hanging out with an apex predator tonight. Rosie captured at least a dozen wandering eyes before finding me at a relatively secluded spot at the edge of the smoker's section. "Drink up!"

"What is it?"

"I asked the bartender for 'something fun'."

I eyed the dark liquid sceptically and took a sip. "Jagerbomb. Mm. That's actually decent."

Rosie took a sip of hers, and gave a moan of pleasure that caused a passing glassie to drop his tray. "Yum! So what's in a Jagerbomb, oh native human of this twenty-first century?"

I snorted. "Hard liquor and caffeine. I thought you had pop culture pretty well down before I summoned you."

"I thought I told you, time isn't quite normal in the Umbra. It's hard to get comprehensive knowledge of the right century of the Fundament, and I wasn't about to get a mixology certification from a demon of Gluttony."

"That's interesting," I said, "and I just thought of another half-dozen questions for The List. But this is the kind of talk that gets us really weird looks."

"Oh, right," Rosie nodded. {Testing, testing!} The pentacle amulet hidden under my shirt warmed and her words appeared in my head as clearly as if she'd spoken them into my ear. {Attention, citizens! I'm a bat-winged demon and I want to fuck my master right here in public! Testing!} Around us, nobody reacted. One guy was ogling Rosie, but he'd been doing so before. She smiled innocently at him. "You see, I can do subtle."

"I can't really mouth replies to you in the middle of a club, though."

"Good! You can focus on chatting up other women," {the ones who don't worship your cock as their one tie to this mortal plane.}

"Point made." I knocked back the rest of the Jagerbomb. "So, there are a few guys staring at you. Hell, a couple of girls too, I think."

"Who wouldn't?"

A dirty little something squirmed in my gut. Considering what I was here for tonight, it really shouldn't have been jealousy. "You, uh, okay with that?"

Rosie rolled her eyes. "Nobody's gonna drag me away from you, don't worry. {Unless she's way hot.} Anyway, most guys are intimidated by the crazily attractive chicks; betcha I won't be hit on more than a dozen times tonight."

"Don't get a big head, miss 'crazily attractive,'" I said, "and just remember that men get brave when they're drunk."

"Well I'm sure you'll protect me, stud," she said, leaning against me. "Now, be honest: which of these here fillies strike your fancy? Ooh - " {look at that black girl! Isn't she pulchritudinous?}

"Pulchritudinous?"

"Eloquent, right?"

For the next ten minutes or so we surveyed the club, Rosie delivering lewd commentary by telepathy. Sunday's pulled a mostly youthful crowd; there were no drunken idiots fresh out of high school, but plenty of young uni students and young-ish professionals in their twenties. Bending over at the bar, chatting animatedly with their friends, or bobbing their heads to the DJ's beat, some damn fine women drew my eye. Obviously none of them were as beautiful as my succubus in all her infernal glory, but my dick seemed willing to share. A couple of girls caught us staring; I quickly glanced away from the first one, but at the admonishments of my demon I held the gaze of the second. That time she looked away first, her cheeks colouring slightly.

Rosie would chime in quite often, directing me towards particularly fine examples of the feminine form. {Ooh, look at her thighs,} she nodded towards a leggy blonde on her way to the bar. Then, with regard to a glasses-wearing brunette: {Tongue stud on that one. That'd feel good when she sucks your dick.} Another blonde clad in sequins and straps: {That's a slutty dress, but she wears it nervously, like she's not used to being out like this. High heart rate, wide pupils, and those are old self-harm scars on her arm... She's emotionally unstable. That could be fun, right?}

A few more minutes of this and my erection would get Not Safe For Work. "Okay, stop," I insisted. "This is fun and everything, Rosie, but... I don't approach girls. I'm scared of girls. Maybe I shouldn't be picking out the hottest ones in the place. I should start low, and work my way up."

"But you already have the hottest girl in the place," she said, running her hand up and down my leg. {And you really need to get in the right mindset, master. You've got a succubus on your shoulder. You could have any woman in any place. Whoever takes your fancy, whether she's a movie star or a man-hating lesbian, I can guide you into her panties.}

That wasn't helping conceal my hopefully-not-too-noticeable erection. Damn; Rosie had said that she'd make my dick bigger eventually, but I was already having enough trouble remaining subtle in public. It was with considerable relief that I spotted Warren across the crowd. With a wave, I started to lead Rosie towards my friend.

"Eric!" he said, a Corona swinging casually in his hand as he waved. "Glad I found you, man, I've already got an opening with a couple of damn fine... Holy shit."

Rosie stared at him haughtily - in the heels, she was looking down on him - for a few seconds before cracking up into a giggle. "That was a very flattering gobsmacked look," she told him. "Thanks."

"Um. Right. Yeah." He looked between us while trying to recover his poise. "Eric, do you want to introduce me to your..."

"Friend," Rosie said, somehow managing to curtsy in the tight green dress. "Best friend. You've got competition for the role, buddy."

Introducing the two turned out to be pretty simple. Rosie wasn't exactly hard to get along with, and my friend was soon performing a sarcastic interrogation on her qualifications for the best friend position. He managed to keep up the joke even when she leaned forward in laughter and brushed a hand against his pectorals.

{No jealousy here, master?}

I shook my head subtly, grinning. At some point Warren had decided that being cool and popular was a better life strategy than playing Warhammer 40k with me all weekend. But no matter how fast his car or how many girlfriends he went through, he'd never been anything less than a loyal friend. You can take the dungeons out of the dragon, etc...

In clubs alone, I was useless. With a demon straight out of the Monster Manual by my side, I was a bit more confident. With Warren here too, I felt about ready to do some damage.

After the meet and greet, Warren led us over to a pair of girls by the edge of the balcony. One black and one white, both with dark hair and dark dresses, and both definitely good-looking. Rosie grinned up at me and brushed her fingers over the crotch of my jeans, too swiftly for anyone to see, but I certainly felt it. {Game on.}

***

ANASTASIA

"Brighten up, Ana. That guy just winked at you again, and he's pretty cute."

Ana sighed. "I need to drink more before I get into the spirit, okay? Besides, he can come over here if he wants to talk to me."

"It's the 21st century, girl. You need to get out more," Heaven said.

Ana nodded, accepting it as the truth even as she kept sipping her drink. The whole point of a girl's night out was to go out together, tear up the dance floor, and eventually see where things led with a cute guy. Her friend had an unfortunate name; she wanted to get straight to the naughty bits. At this point she'd be going out on her own, and then what was the point of the matching outfits?

Heaven's guy - Warren, she remembered - returned. Instead of bringing back drinks as promised, he led another couple over. Double-takes only happened in movies, but Ana still had to look twice.

Ana wasn't the kind of girl to get jealous ordinarily. She wasn't about to pose on a catwalk or anything, but her D-cup breasts attracted plenty of positive attention even when they were concealed beneath her usual gothware lite, rather than the current Little Black Dress ensemble. No self-esteem issues here, no sir, but this girl in the green dress...

"Rosie," she introduced herself with a beaming smile. Wow. You could sell bridges with those giggling lips, let alone the tits underneath. Warren was already fumbling his words, to Rachel's obvious chagrin. That was funny enough that Ana didn't mind when Rosie gave her a quick hug as she said "hi." The physical contact was unexpected but decidedly pleasant; the other girl's auburn hair smelled like summer, fresh and tantalizing. She inhaled again without even thinking about it.

"Hi, I'm Ana," she answered. A warmth stirred inside her as Rosie pulled back, but her conscious mind barely noticed. "Who's your friend?"

"Eric" had clearly won some sort of lottery, or maybe he was just loaded, because Rosie was WAY out of his league. Not that he was bad looking or anything; hell, he was the tallest guy in their section of the balcony, and Ana sure didn't mind a tall man. He just wasn't wow-I'd-turn-gay-for-her hot.

Wait, turn gay for Rosie? Was she seriously thinking that?

It was a bit of a shock when Ana realized that she'd just spent a good minute physically objectifying the two strangers, rather than following the conversation or doing anything other than ogling. Even brunettes could have blonde moments, she supposed. Heaven was focused on dragging Warren's eyes away from Rosie's neckline, so Ana nodded to the other guy during a space in the conversation.

"Hey, Eric, right?"

"Yeah. Hi. Ana, yeah? Yeah." There was an awkward silence for almost a second before he took up the slack briskly. "Hey, do you believe in magic?"

"Uh... did anything prompt that question?"

"Do you? Pretend I'm taking a survey."

Ana smiled a little in spite of herself; he had a confident grin on his face that was infectious. "Alright, fine. I guess... I'd like to believe in magic. Not sure I really do, though. Is this a lead-up to some horrible card trick?"

"Please, I only show those off if I really need to impress someone."

Now just what did he mean by that? Ana raised an eyebrow and went fishing. "Warren sure seems impressed by your girlfriend, though."

Eric looked at Warren looking at Rosie and rolled his eyes. "She's not my girlfriend," he said, as if he got this a lot.

The world made a little bit more sense, then; the redhead was probably claimed by some millionaire. Although the more she looked at him, the more Ana felt there was something interesting about Eric. "Make sure you tell him that, you'll make his night," she said.

"Oh, I don't think Rosie's his type," he replied quietly. "She just moved in from the country, she's very traditional, very old-fashioned. Warren's more of a wild sort of guy."

"Is he now? Do I have to look out for Heaven, protect her?"

"If she got through middle school with that name, I'm sure she can handle herself," Eric joked.

"What about you, Eric? Are you a 'wild sort of guy?'"

He shrugged. "If I was, why should I tell you? I don't know anything about you, Anna...?"

"Anastasia," she supplied. Normally she didn't bother with her full name near drunk guys and loud music, but Eric did seem to be listening to her rather than staring at her chest.

"Very regal." He seemed to pale a bit, glancing sidelong at Rosie, then continued, "do you expect to be treated like a princess?"

"Huh?" It clicked. "Oh, right. Very funny. No, my experience of Imperial Russia is limited to books, thankfully."

"Yeah, I had you pegged as a Dostoyevsky fan," Eric said. "It's the eyes." Then there was extended eye contact, which he held until she broke. He smirked and glanced at Rosie again, the 'traditional' country girl. They briefly locked eyes themselves, Rosie not even hesitating in her conversation with Warren and Heaven, but it was clearly some sort of signal. You heard about couples able to communicate whole sentences with a look, and this felt like that. Rosie had such expressive eyes, after all. Were they green or blue? Ana couldn't tell, no matter how hard she looked...

She was staring at Rosie. Rosie was staring at her, a slight smile tugging at her soft lips.

"Careful," Eric said, "you'll catch flies."

Ana blushed.

The new couple proved to be great conversation, to the point that Ana's vodka and lemonade started to go warm without her noticing. Rosie was talking about studying Anthropology at university, which Ana had been considering taking an elective in, and Eric occasionally chimed in with a mot juste or a sarcastic answer to Ana's questions. It was a bit hard to follow the conversation all the time, though. Rosie's beauty was distracting enough, not to mention how weird it was that she was even thinking about another girl in such terms, but there were also all these little conundrums that kept trapping Ana's brain like tangled bedsheets about her limbs. Those little glances Eric and Rosie shared seemed to be a whole other conversation upon which she was the intruder. Rosie's casual touching of the guy, too, and the fact that her eyes hadn't wandered to Warren or other guys at all... She had to be fucking him. Had to.

Somehow, that didn't make Eric less interesting.

**

The conversation had gotten onto who'd visited which countries, and Eric was teasing Rosie the provincial bumpkin about her attempt at a German accent. "No, it needs to be more forceful. Imagine you've got a whip in your hand and you're cracking it at some POW at the end of every sentence."

Ana had been watching Rosie's lips move, hearing the lilt of her musical voice, and agreed with him without really listening.

"A whip?" Rosie said, raising an eyebrow. "I could have some fun with that."

"You're not whipping anyone."

"Come on, you could both beg me for mercy and everything!"

The image of Rosie, dressed up in some black leather German uniform, holding a whip and standing over her, solidified in Ana's brain. Goosebumps raced over her arms.

"I think we're getting off track..."

As the night wore on, Ana grew less conscious of time passing. At first Rosie had been talking with everyone, but Warren and Heaven seemed absorbed in each other and had gone to dance. The auburn-haired girl now stood by Ana's side in close proximity, clapping her on the shoulder to emphasize a point. Eric, too, was acting familiarly, sitting across from them with reclined back and spread legs. Ana herself was in paradox, simultaneously comfortable and uncomfortable. On the one hand, these strangers were genuinely charming and interesting; she felt like she was privileged to intrude on their night out, rather than the other way around. On the other hand, her whole body felt warm, she kept catching herself staring at one or the other, and the last time Eric had pushed her shoulder teasingly, a tiny jolt of electricity shot through her pussy.