Summoning the Incubus Ch. 05

Now he was purposeful, with his hands on my knees opening my legs wide. He stood between my thighs, tall enough not to need use of his wings. One hand cupped my breast and I cooed under his surprisingly soft touch. The other took his throbbing cock at the base and guided it swiftly to split me.

He entered.

Oh! It was as if in being answered the ache only knew how to beg more! He filled me to the hilt again and again and again, but I only cried out for further fucking. The rain grew heavier yet.

Everything in me burnt with light, love and lust. He doubled to kiss me as he claimed me, his tongue only momentarily hushing my moans of abandon. His hips bumped harder and harder against the insides of my thighs with every thrust. His chest pinned across my bare breasts. The wave of his pleasure began to crest. I watched his face adoringly as it creased with the effort of holding back the tide.

His feet came away from the ground, his whole weight tipping onto me. I sank lower in the air, but did not fall. His wings were pinned tight against his back. His hands on my hips. His mouth on my mouth.

Within myself I felt twin arcs rising; both his hot, hard pleasure; and mine, wet and waxing. Our magic bound us to one another. Each arc had its own path, its own desire, but their trajectories shared a point of inevitable intersection. Panting, squealing and wriggling my hips in answer to the begging of my clit; I glimpsed that imminent future.

I gripped Lazuren's muscular arms, pushed my breasts and hips against his hefty, heaving body, and kissed him with frantic want. The heat in me surged. My cunt shuddered. His cock gave a tremor. We gasped the language of lust and blasphemy into each other's lips. He thrust into my fire again.

For some unknowable timeless spell - we trembled in pure ecstasy. His seed poured into me. My blaze flickered Azurian blue. We were the desert and the ocean. I loved him.

My fires cooled. Spent, I dropped from the air - Lazuren caught me by my wrists, then brought me close, holding me protectively against the warmth of his chest. He loved me.

It was still raining. We were soaked.

***

We were quiet as we walked back. We didn't fly. There was no rush to be parted, no want in either of us for the magic of this journey to dissipate sooner than it needed to. Our quiet was warm, tired and comfortable. I held onto his finger, as best as we might hold hands.

The ground was littered with strange new structures, crystalline formations of imperfect glass that jutted from the earth. They were as if icicles had grown up from the ground instead of dripped from branches.

"What are they?" I asked.

"Fulgurites," he said, "They form where the lighting hits the sand,"

"They're beautiful," I murmured.

He reached out and snapped one of the shards of translucent blue glass from its formation, and offered it to me as if it were a flower.

We laughed. We kissed. I carried the brittle object home, wrapped carefully in the white nightdress we found caught in an indigo tree some many miles down the road.