Dancing in the Dark

Warning: Here there be smut. Not particularly graphic, but smut nonetheless. Of course, if you were squeamish, chances are you'd have abandoned this series long ago. This is the extended encounter between Seth and the succubus Regan (which even he knows is not her real Name).
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Dark hair fell like a curtain. Eyes so light they shone silver-white trapped my gaze, held me down as fingers trailed like warm rain over my body, fever-chilled and threatening to come apart at the seams. Without her control, I would have been feral, merciless, slamming her into slate until it cracked. Until she did.

“We are terrible creatures.” Her tongue was cat-rough but so much more tender than all I’d borne in that room of pain.

And yet, I felt more at home in the dungeon than almost anywhere else – the price of catharsis.

“I could show you how terrible.” My boastful threat dissolved in a groan as she drew out my anger and replaced it with mindful lust.

“Show me,” she dared.  Then she looked away, purposefully allowing me free reign.

Animal urges rushed in. I fought them down, pacing and snarling just below the surface. She may have been the architect of my frustration, but she did not deserve to suffer for what I’d volunteered to endure.  She could easily have drained me dry or worse, enslaved me. She probably should have.

I wrapped my leg around her and rolled her under me, my weight keeping her pinned. Her smile said she could fight me off – if she chose. I seized her mouth in a kiss half as rough as I desired. She gave as good as I, arching to rub against the dreadful ache she’d created. Prickles ran along all my nerves, senses overwhelmed with need. Reason fled. Magic flared.

She chose.

Sinuous, deadly, she wrapped around me, soft nonsense words cooing for submission, seeking to soothe.

Anywhere but here, that might have worked. Echoes of the past clung to the walls, speaking to my soul more loudly than sibilant siren song. Here, I had fought. Here learned. Here bled. The place throbbed with my essence, a feedback loop of suffering and revelation. In times, it had quieted my raging desires. Now, it fed them. I pushed away from her.

She rose, a rope uncoiling for a fakir, a snake ready to strike.  Only this one intended to play with her food first. “Delightful! I had so hoped you would not be easily attained.”

“Lady, I’m the very definition of hard to get, and you’ve already had enough of me.”

Her laughter bounced around the room, crystal bells in perfect harmony, tones burrowing until my body resonated with them. “I doubt I could ever drink my fill of you. Such amazing reserves and so few reservations. Why draw the line with me?”

“You tortured me.”

“You liked it.”

I ground my teeth, unable to form words of denial. 

She circled me, slowly losing bits of clothing until she wore nothing but her long hair and perfect, golden skin. I wanted to touch every inch of it, taste all of her, lose myself entirely. It would be so easy to give in, so comforting to cave to the desire for oblivion – no guilt, no sorrow, no pain, no loss.

“No.”

“That is the word you used, over and over again, but it wasn’t the word you gave us to end your suffering. You enjoy the ache, the longing. You want me to force you, yet don’t want to be forced. What an interesting creature you are.”

“I don’t break easy.”

She stopped.  “Is that what you think I desire?”  Hands open, eyes down, she approached, then dropped to her knees. “I would bring you joy and pleasure, if you’d allow it.”

“You’d feed on me.”

“Yes, and you on me.”

“Doesn’t work that way.”

She looked up. “Of course it does. I can show you how. Or I can leave off trying to convince you. Simply say the right word.”

I swallowed heavily. “No.”

She smiled. “There now. Was that so difficult? No, don’t answer. I can see it, taste it in the air. You hold yourself so tightly, so controlled.  With me, you need not fear. I, too, am difficult to break. But you are more than welcome to try.”

Images poured through my mind, colored by the place where we stood. Sybil had not been able to bend me to her will, but I remembered every way she tried. Seemingly Spartan, this room held hidden places full of arcane tools, any one of which could have Regan twisting, writhing, begging – for continuation or cessation would hardly matter. In my hands or hers, the rush would be the same.  That was the secret so few discovered: give and take are equal, perfectly balanced.

“No.” I was not putting on that sort of show.

She pouted. “I’m beginning to dislike that word.”

“I’m sure few deny you.”

“Mostly, they deny themselves.”

I’d tried, to no avail. Best to embrace it. I held my hand out, raised her up, kissed her gently, the way I recalled doing before my world had scarred me. Fingers threaded through tangled tresses, I tugged ever so slightly. I was not that untested boy, could never go back, not even for sweet tea kisses and the scent of chocolate skin or the hot summer breeze laced with honeysuckle. She pulled out my memories and drowned me in sensations so intense they would have felled me in my youth.

I was not that boy.

She pawed at me, wanting more.

“Not here.”

“But your power is in this room. I can feel it.”

“No.”  I led her down a dim lit hall, through a simple door to a room left empty but for the bed.  It was freshly made. I snorted. Of course.

A simple spell, softly spoke. A subtle pop-pop as cameras shorted out. A confused look from Regan.

“I don’t like pay per view. Never did.”

“A very strange creature indeed.” But she relaxed, too.

I let her lead me, no games required. With sure-quick fingers, she unbuttoned my shirt, then traced muscle with tongue as she moved lower. I gripped the bedpost as she tugged off my jeans, not touching or tracing anything.

“If we’re continuing what we started above…” I choked, knowing how much I could take, would for the promise of more.

“Shhh. Let me love you.” She crawled onto the bed, then pulled me after her.

I lost myself in her kisses. Her hands recalled me, remade me in my own image. Her tongue painted pictures of desert moons and harsh winds. Her hair trailed cool streams from mountains and down, further down.  My moan morphed into a battle cry as she swallowed me. I grabbed handfuls of bedding to keep from wrapping my fists in her hair, arched and tried to hold back. When her nails dug into my thighs, I shattered with a roar that reverberated off the walls – and went no further, thanks to the unholy nature of my former abode. No one could hear us down in the pit.

She let me rest, soothed my brow, dug clever fingers into muscles that feared unlocking. Tears fell unremarked on the pillow, and I could finally breathe. I could finally think. And what I thought, I could finally say.

“It’s not enough.”

Regan nodded. “I know. It’s not over.”

“That’s not what I meant. I mean, it was, but it also wasn’t.” Apparently I couldn’t think as well as I’d believed.

“And what you heard is not what I said. We are not done here, and you are not finished with what you need to do.” She cocked her head. “Or perhaps to be.”

“Pretty sure that’s a lifelong quest.”

She hit me with a pillow. I tossed it back. She rolled over and up onto her feet, flinging it aside.

And just like that, everything changed. Her eyes shone bright in the darkness, her smile brighter. “Come on, boy. You said you had something to show me.”

I lunged for her. She twisted out of reach, grabbed the post, and swung back, catching my side and shoving me off the bed. My feet barely hit the ground before I launched, pushing off the frame to change my trajectory. She tried to twist out of the way, but I got a hand on her calf and pulled her toward me. Her kick landed on my thigh. I barely felt it.

She wrapped her legs around me, began to sing. I stopped her wicked tongue with my own, bringing her in, holding her tighter than she’d thought to ensnare me. Teeth grazed her neck, nipped, left skin intact, brought the blood to pool just out of reach. My marks on her would fade, so the trade was uneven, but satisfying.

I lowered her slowly, savoring the whimpers and the pounding of her fist as I denied her what she knew I wanted. Held just out of reach, she snarled and began to fight in earnest. I savored the burning of her skin against mine, soft mounds against hard muscle, sweat making all slick.  And she was. I released my hold, and she slammed down, taking me in.

“Yes,” she hissed. “Now, we dance.”  Her monster rose to the surface, her skin aglow, eyes alight, head thrown back as she undulated and writhed.

I kept as tight a grip on myself as I did on her, pushing hard to bring her pleasure but never losing sight of what she was. As her passion rose, I felt the pull on my energy, let it flow, so sweet, so easy.

Too easy. Her need could kill me.

I rolled her under me and stared down at her with a smile. Then I pounded into her. All my earlier frustration and horror was cast aside. Instead, I gave her the one thing I kept from everyone else. She could take the animal I knew myself to be, the one capable of such terrible destruction all my magic paled beside it, the truly human side of myself I’d spent a lifetime restraining.

My need could not kill her. She fed and fed, until she wailed and shuddered with release. I pushed her further, until she cried out again. And again.

When she bit her lip, I seized her mouth, opened my own wound, mixed the two like an elixir on our tongues. I spilled into her, whispering the blood-stained spell with a kiss. 

“No!” she cried out, eyes wide with fear.

“That wasn’t the word we chose.” I wiped my mouth and looked down at her. “And that’s the last time you’ll ever feed from me.”