The Sentimental Succubus

"Well, I am a demon, after all," I replied, sticking out my tongue at him.

My deceit was quickly forgotten under the exhilaration of his accomplishment. He grinned. "I talked to him! I actually talked to someone!"

That night, after we returned to his home, our sex was even more energetic than usual. We lay together on his bed in each other's arms, warmth washing over me like a sun-warmed ocean.

It came more and more readily to me now, that warmth. I felt it even down in Hell, whenever his face or scent or the touch of his body came to mind.

And ever present too was that pain, hiding within the warmth and nourished by it, a pain born of fear. But fear of what? Of being discovered, of losing him, of becoming lost myself? Whatever it was, I pushed every thought of it away.

However, the pain itself was always there, nestled deep inside my chest.

---

One night, as were walked together, it began to gently rain. I unfurled one of my wings and shielded him with it. Humans are fragile, my own human more fragile than most, and I didn't want him to get wet.

He smiled at me, grateful. "You know Lavandé, I often forget you have wings. You usually keep them furled."

I shifted my wings self-consciously. "They often get in the way," I explained. The truth was that ever since I'd been an Alice-level succubus the size and shape of my wings had been a matter of anxiety for me. Were they big enough? Too big and ungainly, perhaps? I'd often wondered what he thought of my wings.

"They're very beautiful wings," he said, reading my mind.

I looked at him. He had turned aside, blushing.

"Thank you," I replied, keeping my delight hidden.

"Can you fly with those wings?" he asked after a while. "It's just... I've never seen you do it."

I blinked. "Fly? Yes. But only under the earth."

"They don't work above ground?"

I shook my head. "It's not that. There's an agreement between Miss Lucy and the Power that demons may not fly above the earth and angels below it."

"Miss Lucy?" He frowned. "You mean the Devil?"

"The Devil is a name the Power gave Miss Lucy," I told him. "She... she doesn't like it very much."

"I see. Miss Lucy, huh?"

We continued to walk. The rain remained a gentle mist that turned the streetlights into glowing clouds of fog. We'd walked further than usual this night. We were passing a park now, the trees a maze of shadow on our left.

He drew closer to me.

"What's the matter?" I asked.

"I guess I'm just a little cold."

I smiled. He really was fragile! I stopped and pulled him to me, embracing him. I enveloped him with my wings, wrapping us together.

"How's that?"

He clung closer to me. "Lavandé, you're so warm."

"Well, I am a demon," I said. "It's only to be expected."

I'd grown warmer too. That omnipresent warmth that lived in my chest like a drop of liquid fire had flared under his touch.

I felt more than warmth emanating from him, now. My proximity had excited him and orgone was flowing freely from his body. I slid my talons across his clothed back. The orgone was making me hungry.

"Wow," he murmured. I could feel the hardness of his member beneath his clothes jutting into me. "Uh, hey. Do you maybe want to go home and...?"

I feigned surprise. "What, already?"

He in turn was startled. "You... you don't want to?"

I smiled my most lascivious smile at him. "A succubus, not wanting to have sex?" I shook my head. "No, I mean I don't want to wait. I... I know a place we can go, if you like. Are you feeling brave?"

"I guess so," he replied. "You know, I'm only really frightened of one thing, now."

"And what's that?"

His face grew more serious still. "That all of this is a dream. That you're a dream.

I stared at him. "You still think this is all some dream?"

He sighed again. "I'm sorry, Lavandé. It's just that... well, I guess I'm just not used to having something wonderful like you happen to me. I'm afraid my happiness will be taken away from me." He frowned. "I'm being stupid, I know."

Something wonderful like you. The words fed that warmth inside me and coursed through me, and pain came with it, too.

Afraid my happiness will be taken away from me.

I slipped from his embrace. My chest burned. I pushed my hand between my breasts and grimaced.

Alarmed, he asked, "Lavandé? What's wrong?"

I removed my hand. The worst of the pain had passed. "Nothing."

He frowned. "It didn't look like nothing."

"I suppose I'm just not used to having such things said about me."

The pain still lay there, throbbing, inside my chest, and yet somehow that pain fed into my ever increasing hunger. I stared across at him, my blood hot, coveting him.

Orgone pulsed from him. Oh, how happy it made me to think of the reactions I caused in his body!

"Is this place you know far away?" he asked.

"I would need to fly us there," I said.

"Fly? But I thought..."

"It's a short flight and it's raining. Heaven shouldn't notice us. Do you still wish to go?"

His eyes went wide and he nodded. The excitement on his face was that of a little boy. I felt that warmth tingling in my chest, and I forgot the pain.

"You don't think I'll be too heavy for you?"

I snorted. "I could lift you up one-handed, but it'll be more comfortable if I carry you in this fashion." I embraced him, marvelling again at the difference in our heights, then leaned down and with one arm beneath his knees I lifted him bodily up so that I was cradling him in my arms like a child.

"Wow," he murmured. "You're very strong." He gazed up at me and I turned my face away, frowning.

"Of course I am. I'm a demon." I unfurled my wings to their full extent. "Hold on."

I swept my wings back and forth and lifted us quickly up into the air. He gasped, throwing his arms around my neck. We soon gained height and he shivered and clung closer to me.

"You're cold?" I asked. The rainy night air had a definite chill to it.

"Not cold," he replied. "Frightened. Terrified, actually. I hate heights."

I snorted. Humans and their phobias! And yet his fear delighted me. For all my growing human affectations, I was still a demon, after all. But I was delighted, too, by the way he clung to me. I didn't tell him I was frightened as well. For the proximity of the sky was alarming, every star peeping through the grey cloud-cover the stern judgemental eye of a watching angel.

But for him, so delighted and terrified as he clung to me, I would do anything.

Below us the sleeping city spiralled, a scattering of lights, the cold darkness sweeping about us like a torrential wind. The higher we went the more the earth seemed like a mirror of the sky, an expanse of grey and black sprinkled with glittering star-points. We were squeezed between two panes of heaven. I decided then we'd flown high enough.

"Where are you taking me?" he shouted against my chest, the wind shrieking in our ears.

"It's not far!" I shouted back.

I was flying at speed now. My wings were a blur of shadow and my spirit soared to test them once again. Long years had passed since I'd last delighted in flight as a young Alice-level succubus. Too quickly we forget the simple things that give us pleasure.

Our flight together pleased him, too. He stared up at me in delight, those beautiful eyes agleam with life and vitality that only a human can have. Such fragile creatures, and so short lived, and yet the fire with which they burn! Is it little wonder that we turn to them as sources of our own energy, harvest them of what we lack?

I slowed and began a gentle descent. The air grew heavier still with moisture as mist surrounded us, a rising veil of shattered water. The sound of rushing resounded in our ears. I fell into a hover and with great care I lowered him onto a smooth, hard surface. He began to sit up but I swung myself on top of him.

"Where are we?"

A gentle night breeze was blowing about us, moist and cool. His hair flew across his face, hiding his beautiful eyes, and I drew the dewy locks aside with my talons.

"We're in the mountains," I said. "There is a deep, deep cave here that reaches down into the pits of Hell itself. This is where I first travelled to the earth's surface, long ago. It is a beautiful place, don't you think?"

I let him turn his head then.

Beautiful. I'd never thought of such things before I'd met him. Being with him had taught me much about things I'd only ever dimly glimpsed in the past. This place was dear to me, and as he looked out at the city twinkling far out through the drifting rain like a seam of gemstones deep within the earth's heart, he sighed.

"Lavandé, it's beautiful."

Joy spread through me. I smiled and at the same time I winced at that tender spot inside my chest. In the dark he did not notice it and it had passed by the time he turned back to look at me.

"But not as beautiful as you," he said.

His words burned in me. I smiled, not giving any sign I'd heard what he said. "Yes, a beautiful place, and far, far from where any might disturb us, or come to your aid if I were to choose to devour you."

"Do you think that's likely?" he asked, a gently chiding look on his face.

How he trusted me! "You are very brave to trust a succubus," I said. "Or a fool."

"Well," he said and he chuckled. "No one's ever accused me of being brave, so I guess I must be a fool."

I drew my talons down the side of his face and traced the line of his chin down to his neck. I knew his face so well, now, his body as well, far better than I had known any other human's. That warmth swelled in me. I knew now why I was doing all this. I'd convinced myself that the warmth was nothing, but I knew now it was the source of my addiction, the reason I always returned to this man. His eyes, his voice, the way his lips curved into a smile whenever I looked at him, all these things made the warmth grow, and even as it pained me, I needed it more.

I lowered my face to his chest and drew my lips after the trail left by my hand.

He sighed. "I wish I could kiss you, Lavandé."

"Impossible," I murmured. I undid the front of his shirt and bared his chest.

"C-cold!" he cried.

"I will warm you." I attacked one nipple and then the other, licking a path down to his stomach.

"Lavandé. Lavandé," he murmured.

"Warmer now?"

I felt him nod.

"Then you won't mind if I bare this half of you as well."

He helped me take his pants off. Despite the cold he was already at attention, hard and delicious. I wanted to dive right upon him, but another compulsion had gripped me, one born of that intoxicating warmth. I lay on top of him, snuggled my face against his chest as I slid my arms around his torso and drew my talons across his back. I wanted to warm his shivering body, cover him with my own.

"I love your wings," he murmured, lifting his hand to them. "I can't usually reach them since you have them all furled up." And then, for the first time, I felt someone's hand caress my wings. His fingertips danced across the smoothness of the membrane between the hooked claws and I bit my lip to stop from crying out.

"What's wrong?"

I gasped. "A succubus's wings! They're... ah!... they're very sensitive. Your touch... oh, your touch is too much for me!"

His smile was that of a naughty boy. "So you want me to stop touching them, then?"

I began to shiver. "N-no, no, please don't stop."

He drew his delightful fingers along the leading edge down to the wingtip. "You know, I remember reading somewhere that bats have more nerve-endings on their wings than most other animals have on their entire bodies. I guess the same must be true for succubi..."

I gasped again. His hardness was sandwiched between us and I felt the stickiness of my own sex brushing against it. I rubbed myself against him and began to pant.

His voice was soft but thick with need. "Lavandé, I want to be on top this time. Can I?"

On top? A succubus, having a human cover her? The thought was nerve-wracking, shocking, and deeply exciting.

My face burned. "Since... since it's you, it's okay," I muttered.

He rolled me over and lay on top of me. I gazed up at him, charmed by his smiling face.

Beautiful. His eyes had opened mine to so much beauty.

I reached down to where we were rubbing together, but he took my hand away and shook his head.

"Let me," he murmured.

He drew his hands to my waist, one of them resting on my hip, the other guiding himself straight into me. I cried out, arching my back at the delicious, forbidden angle of his penetration.

I soon grew used to this position, as alien as it was to a succubus. I lifted my legs, hooked them behind his buttocks as he thrust into me. I even dared to let him lick and kiss my neck.

His eyes glistened like melting glass as his thrusts grew faster and more desperate. "Oh Lavandé! I-"

I raised a finger to his lips. "Shhhh," I said. I turned away, too fragile for those eyes.

Panting, he gazed down at me. "Lavandé, Lavandé!"

"Come for me," I whispered. "Come for me. I... I need you. I need you."

I need you. My words horrified me. What was I saying?

But it was true. I needed him. Why else did I always return to him? Why did I covet him like a possession? Why did those earnest eyes of his slay me so, make my chest ache with this new, exquisite agony?

I dug my talons into his back as I shuddered, coming before he did for the first time, crying out his name, safe here deep in the mountains where we would not be heard.

Wincing, eyes wide, his mouth an O of ecstasy, he came inside me. Orgone flooded me, and that something else, that delicious something else that suffused me. It filled me like liquid fire, a flame that pooled under my breasts, deep in my chest, just as his boiling semen lay deep in my belly.

In my chest, the warmth had become a glowing ember of living fire and would no longer be still.

-----

After that night, his confidence grew. We began to spend almost as much time outside as we did inside. Some nights we'd roam almost until daybreak, the two of us risking the daylight we both feared, wanting to remain together as long as possible. Our partings grew more and more difficult. I didn't say anything to him, but the heaviness in my chest was ever present now. It pained me most of all when we parted, and the pain stayed with me until we met again. And even when we were together at times a stroke of agony would course through me. I wondered if perhaps I wasn't dying in some way. And so I hid it from him, and from myself.

As my pain grew, his lessened. The terror he'd had of the world outside was dimming. He no longer jumped at the sound of voices, no longer wanted to run when he saw others approaching. He'd grown so strong that the night finally came when he was able to visit the nearby convenience store and buy 'soda', that carbonated sugar drink he so enjoyed. I didn't really approve, but I thought his courage was deserving of a treat so I made no protest. I remained hidden in the shadows while he interacted with the bored human behind the counter. Triumphant, he carried his prize home, the can cradled in his hands like a child. The joy on his face at such a simple thing fed my own happiness and I grew dizzy with it.

We were halfway back when he stopped. He glanced down a side street and turned to me.

"Let's go this way," he said. "Just for a change."

He took me by the hand and led me down the side street until we came to a playground, the sort of place where human children play. I'd often watched them in the early darkness of winter evenings and wondered at how humans can take such joy in simple things.

"Want to sit on the swings?" he asked.

"Swings?"

He took me to one corner of the playground. There was a triangular metal frame there with a number of flat boards hanging down from chains. So these were the 'swings'. They had the appearance of some strange torture device like a rack. He went and sat on one, motioning for me to join him on the other.

We sat together in silence for a long while.

Finally he said, "I used to come here a lot." He pointed to a dark building adjacent to the playground. "That's my school. Or, well, at least it was once. I graduated from it years ago, now. Thank god."

I gazed at the building. It didn't seem a happy, inviting place. It was utilitarian and austere, not unlike our own buildings down here in Hell, and high fencing surrounded it - to keep others out, or the inhabitants in I wondered?

"Yeah," he said. "I never really got on with anyone else at school. Even speaking to others made my heart beat like it was going to burst out of my chest."

I frowned. "Your heart?"

He nodded. He placed a hand upon his chest. "You know, I'm amazed it's beating so slowly and regularly right now. The last time I was anywhere near the school I thought I'd have a heart attack."

"Something happened to you there, didn't it?"

He stared into the darkness for a long time. "Lots of stuff, I guess. It's... I try not to remember."

"I'm sorry," I said.

"No, it's okay," he said, smiling at me. "You're interested. It makes me really happy, you know. That you want to know stuff about me." He sighed. "Yeah, lots of stuff happened to me. Lots of bullying. These days you can't escape it, even outside of school. It follows you home. Sometimes nowhere is safe except deep in yourself. I guess that's why I fled there." He closed his eyes. "I always liked drawing. That's why I kept going to school even with all the stuff that was happening to me. I loved art class. But then one day I found someone had broken into my locker and all my sketch books were gone. Later I found out they'd been torn up and scattered across the baseball field. I went there after school and tried to collect as much as I could, but there was just so much of it and it was windy and the paper just..." He laughed, but it was cold. "I chased after that paper like a fat man trying to catch a hat. But after a while I just looked down at the dirty, tattered pieces in my hands and I think something broke. I went home that day and never went back."

I didn't know what to say to his pain. This wasn't something a succubus is trained to deal with, after all. And so I said nothing. I got off the swing and hugged him around the shoulders from behind.

"Lavandé," he murmured, resting a cheek against my chest. "Lavandé."

"What?"

"Did I ever tell you your name is beautiful?"

"Yes," I said. "Many times." I smiled. I'd never tire of him telling me so.

"Lavandé, after they destroyed my sketch books I stopped drawing. I couldn't even pick up a pencil anymore. My most precious thing and they took it from me."

"But you're always drawing!" I protested.

"It's because of you, you know," he said. "When you started visiting me all I wanted to see was your face again. The only way to do that was to draw it, so I had to draw. You inspired me. You gave me back my most precious thing."

Tears wet my skin. I didn't feel sadness welling from him, but rather that golden aura that attends happiness. He was happy and yet crying. How strange humans are!

"And that's not all," he said. "Tonight, when I talked to the guy at the 7-11. I never could have done that before I met you. I would've had a nervous breakdown. I'm usually frightened of everyone and everything."

"You've never been frightened of me."

"Yes," he said, turning around and smiling at me. "Why is that, do you think?"

Then he darted forward and kissed me on my cheek, his lips pressing hot against my skin. I swallowed back a cry of alarm and permitted him. I knew he wasn't trying to harm me. I'd wanted that almost-kiss for so long, now, that almost-kiss that was as close as the two of us could ever come to a real one.

"Sorry," he said as he pulled away. "I guess I should've warned you." He slipped off the swing and reached out for me.