Incubus - Blog Posts

Jayce singing Drive by Incubus while driving

Incubus Helmeppo sketch based off of this one kobymeppo doujinishi I once found.

I guess it could also count as a October Halloween post? Right?

An incubus guard. Voths' job is to guard his incubi kin. He used to live in the nests with them but moved to the human realm to set up a little home for Incubi and sucubi can stay when they need to travel the human realm for food. He is an Incubus himself, and feeds just like the others but he doesn't as much because of his lack of interest in humans. Voth has a 'boyfriend', Josiah, who is a forgotten angel. Yada yada I love this babe and there is too much info I want to share.

EYOO!

Been abit again! So have some doodles I did this month!

First five doodles are all characters that belong to my good friend @enderparty101! (Give that lovely bean sum follows-)

And the rest at the bottom are OCS of mine!

(characters: Muff, Selene, Creampuff and a random Incubus I doodled in one class! Might call him Marx)

Any how, have a good day/night/afternoon!

BRO CHAT wtf have I just made

I may be cooked bro tf😭🙏

Younger Black Heart Inertia.

The first meeting with the assistant backstage. “Is he that into you?”

Marshall (The popular actor/singer) and Brandon (The ‘Nerdy’ Assistant)

It was just an ordinary day at the studio, Marshall had been hanging out with Director Samuel’s assistant, Brandon for as long as he could remember. It was oddly strange for someone like the blond to be around an clumsy and always late to the moment assistant but no matter what the situation was, The dark brunet would always be there with him. But this day would be different.

Marshall just waited outside, leaning against the brick wall as he watched the brunet walking out from the back door and entering the alleyway. Adjusting his glasses and his headphone, the assistant gazed at the actor and softly sighed before walking up to him and standing next to him, leaning against the wall with a coffee in his hand, which made the actor notice him and smile at him. “Is that for me?” he teased.

“Ah, uhm,” The assistant blushed slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yes, but you may not like it--!”

Glancing at the cup, Marshall shrugged and took a sip before starting to almost drink the whole cup but stopped as he slowly turned to the stunned Brunet and chuckled. “Well, I never knew you taste sweet, B.”

Brandon jumped and blushed heavily, realizing that the cup read ‘Non dairy, soy, Extra foam. Brandon.’ Since he was running late to the production, he forgot to get him the right drink order. “Oh my god, oh no! I’m so sorry, Mr. Marsh! I-I, ughh, Forgot to get it right!”

“No..? I said that you taste sweet, B.”

“Uhm, what does that mean?”

“You want me to show you?”

The assistant nodded before trying to reach for the cup before feeling Marshall pinning him against the wall and pulling him closer by his back and began kissing him passionately, squeezing his waist as he felt their bodies heating up. The dark brunet moved his hand up to his hair, slipping and tangling his fingers. While his other hand dropped the coffee and slid to the sides of the brunet’s neck as he pressed his leg against his thighs, hearing the assistance slipping soft noises from his mouth before pulling away briefly and staring at him. “Would you like me to stop here, I mean we’re on a tight schedule after all, B.”

The brunet gently tugged on the actor’s shirt collar, he shook his head as he was out of breath. “Just the opposite, please..” he breathed, feeling the actor biting his lip before stopping and pulling back and smiling at him.

“BRANDON!” The headphone speaker spoke, The assistant jumped as he knew it was from the director, Samuel Michealson. “Do you have those reports done like I had hoped for you to get done in an hour or so?”

The brunet swallowed his saliva as he tried to answer him but felt Marshall comfort growing more passionately, staring him in the eyes as he leaned in grabbing his shoulder. “A-Ah! Of course I did, sir, I’d never ignore an assignment-!”

Marshall cut him off again as he started to kiss him again, slowly moving his headphone off of him before finding the button to hang up on the director. “Sorry, Sam, but your assistant is pretty busy now,” the dark brunet glanced up at him. “Mind leaving a message?”

So..guys

Do you think Brandon Boyd from Incubus should be a Littlest Pet Shop character?

The Incubus

(Connie x Reader) - Word Count: 3.8k

Creature: a male demon believed to have sexual intercourse with (sleeping) women.

Warnings: Cherry Picking, Corruption Kink, Unprotected Sex, Wet Dream

Quick Summary: when your parents aren’t home, you invite your best friend over for a movie night.

Extra Notes: Third day of Whore - O - Ween and only four more to go until Halloween!

Connie understood girls like you. He understood how desperately you pushed this good girl facade in hopes of never being read clearly. He understood how you helplessly clung to the bottom of your skirt not wanting the bareness of your thighs to give away the obvious truth. He understood how you kept your voice high and your giggles light to hide the real you. Connie understood you because he’s met plenty of different versions of you - what can he say, acting this way was common for virgins.

And Connie knew virgins better than he knew anything else. He’s been living on this Earth for centuries. He’s watched empires rise and fall, political role models be overthrown, and wars captivate an entire nation and then be ended with a big bang. He knew the darkest secrets of important bloodlines, he knew war strategies to bring down any country, and he knew the fads and trends by year - but he knew virgins the best.

That’s why you were just so easy to trick, you unintentionally played right into his hand. When he said jump, you took a leap. When he said let’s hang out sometime, you immediately made plans and begged him to go through with them. When he said how about I come over tonight, you thanked every god that could hear you that your parents wouldn’t be home tonight and didn’t have to know that you were having a guy over.

It’s not like anything was going to happen anyways, you were sure of it. Connie was much too sweet to try anything with you. He always held your books on your way to class if your arms got too tired. He always kept snacks in his backpack and would sneak them into your hands at the back of the classroom. He always made you smile when you were sad and held you if you wanted to cry. Connie was just too sweet to do anything immoral.

But that didn’t stop you from getting ready like he may. You chose your most scandalous panties, the pair you only bought on a dare - a pair of black panties that was made with sheer fabric to allow viewers to see through to what was underneath. You doused yourself in perfume, a sweet scent that had allured men to you in the past. You felt guilty acting like something was going to happen with Connie, and that guilt only made you want it more.

You nearly fell down the stairs as you ran to the front door when the doorbell rang. You stumbled on the second to last step and ran into the door sideways in a fit of adrenaline. You quickly straightened up and fixed your messed up hair before opening the door for your guest.

“Hello,” You said to Connie who stood on your front porch, “You brought-?”

“Cookies,” Connie said with a smile as he thrusted them towards you, “You said you like chocolate chip, right?”

“Yes, yes - I do, thank you!” You grabbed the container of cookies from Connie’s hands, your fingertips gently caressing over the rough skin of his fingers. You tried to hide your excitement from the touch, keeping your gasp to a whisper and begging your heart to stop beating so quickly.

Connie caught the gasp despite your desire to hold it back. All it took was one touch - just one tap of fingers to fingers - and he had you hypnotized. You could hardly breathe around your quickly beating heart and your lungs felt like they were filling with cement. Despite the obstacles, you still managed to mumble something out to Connie.

“Thanks,” You said quickly under your breath as you led him into the kitchen just two rooms away.

“Yeah.” Connie followed behind you, looking around the house as he walked through the hallway. “I don’t normally bake, but I thought you’d like some cookies - so, I just looked up a recipe and started making them. They might not be good, but I tried really hard and I put a lot of work into them and I think I made a really good dough to chocolate chip ratio-”

“Connie,” You said harshly to grab his wandering attention as you turned around to him in the entrance of the kitchen, “They’re perfect, and I’m sure they have a perfect dough to chocolate chip ratio.”

Connie fought his smile, but it still spread across his cheeks, “Thank you.”

It always amazed Connie just how quickly you could gain your own confidence if somebody else’s confidence was wavering. You could erase all shyness from your persona - maybe even become a different person entirely - if it meant you could help somebody else. It was his favorite thing about you, he could feign a lack of confidence all day long if it meant you’d make him feel better afterwards.

Your eyes lingered on Connie’s face for a moment too long. You watched as his hazel eyes delicately looked you over. His glance started on your face, taking in the sight of your own eyes before moving down to your mouth and lastly to your body. That last movement of his eyes was what caused you to kill the contact - you looked away quickly, trying to hide the embarrassment that now pumped through your veins.

“So,” You said as you placed the cookies onto the kitchen counter, “Do you want to watch a movie or we could-?”

“Yes,” Connie answered much too quickly, “If you want to, of course.”

You were taken aback by Connie’s enthusiasm. Why did he seem like he wanted to watch a movie so badly? Was watching a movie some kind of innuendo that you didn’t understand? You wished you knew more about the way Connie thought, or even boys in general - you were sure that kind of information could save you from embarrassing moments you were currently living through.

“Yeah,” You said warily, squinting your eyes at Connie, “I want to.”

Connie smiled wide, “Good, are we staying in the living room - I’m assuming?”

Connie knew virgins better than he knew anything else. He knew virgins craved to be touched more than anybody who had already been touched. He knew virgins acted sweet and innocent to hide their true intentions. And, he knew virgins loved to invite people they were interested over only when their families weren’t home to interrupt things - especially if they didn’t want to be virgins anymore.

He knew from the second he walked onto the property that you were the only one here at the moment. He noticed there was no other car parked in the driveway - apart from your own car and his. He noticed the quiet in the house when he first stepped in, not even hearing a cat or dog run around upstairs. And, he noticed just how frantically you looked around, as if you were afraid one of your family members could come home at any second, and see what you were trying to do with this boy by inviting him over to an empty house.

He knew nobody else in the house equals staying in the living room - it always equals staying in the living room. Connie assumed it’s because there’s something more open about the living room. The living room has accessible windows, it has open entryways, it has people watching from the tv screen. To Connie, people who are willing to fuck in the living room are willing to fuck practically anywhere.

“Yeah,” You said slowly, “We can stay in the living room.”

Perfect. That was exactly what he wanted to hear. Now, he knows for a fact that your family was absent from the house. And now, he knows for a fact that his long awaited plan was finally going to happen. He had waited for months, pretending to be some timid, sweet boy with no ulterior motives - when in reality, he was just waiting for the moment you’d give yourself to him.

That’s just what he did. He’s done it for centuries with pretty little virgins like you. Simply because he enjoyed virgins the most, it’s why he learned so much about them. It’s why he carried their books, why he walked them to class, and brought them homemade gooey little cookies - all to get into their pants.

It was honestly a game at this point: how many days will have to go by until the virgin’s legs are strung across your neck? And, the second game that comes right after the first one’s over is just as fun: how many hours until you’re completely out of her life and as far away as possible?

“Great, race you there.” Before you had a moment to process his request, he was already around the corner and out of sight.

“Connie,” You said with a hint of curiosity in your tone.

“It was a race,” Connie called from the other room as you slowly made your way into the living room, “And, you majorly lost.”

You stood in the doorway of the living room. Connie made himself comfortable on the couch by the wall, spreading his legs out over the remaining two cushions. His body was taking up the whole couch which left the second couch beside you free.

“Well,” You said, “You didn’t give me a warning - you’re supposed to say 3, 2, 1, GO! That’s just good sportsmanship, Connie.”

God, he loved the way you said his name and just how often you did it.

Connie watched you across the room. He watched you intently as you stood there with your hip jutting out. And, he even watched as you walked towards the couch he wasn’t completely colonizing. You walked around the sofa to your left, about to sit down when Connie quickly yelled for you.

“No!” Connie sat up on the couch, reaching towards you. “Don’t sit the whole way over there, sit over here with me!”

You raised your eyebrows at him, “Why does it matter?”

“I just,” Connie said as he glanced awkwardly around the room, “I just know I’ll miss you too much if you sit over there.”

His sentence hit you in a very good yet very bad way. You supposed it was good to know your face could heat up from one comment and that your heart could pound in your chest that quickly - and it even amazed you that he couldn’t hear it from across the room. And, you knew it was bad to feel this way for a close friend of yours and it was even worse to jump at the opportunity to sit on a couch beside him inside of an empty house.

To prevent any argument, you walked over to Connie’s couch to join him. He moved his legs for you, slowly bringing his knees to his chest before stretching his legs out again once you had sat down beside him. Connie’s legs were laying on your lap, his calves trapping you to the couch cushion below - you didn’t really hate the extra weight his body gave to your body, and in a strange way, you kind of liked it.

Connie excitedly picked the movie you both were going to watch for the night - and honestly, his choice surprised you. You assumed maybe he’d decide on a horror movie to frighten you enough to jump right into his arms and him to take that opportunity to jump right into your pants. And, you assumed maybe he’d decide on a movie with a lot of sex scenes as a poor attempt to get you in the mood. But instead, sweet and reliable Connie chose a romantic comedy.

You expected Connie to be the kind of guy to call those types of movies “chick flicks” and write them off completely. And, part of you wasn’t sure if he chose the movie because he wanted to watch it or because he thought you would want to. But, either way, you enjoyed the movie and so did Connie.

As the movie was coming to an end, you felt yourself growing tired. Both from the predictable plotline and the moon rising ever so steadily outside of the windows around you. You let your eyes gently close, and in an attempt not to fall onto Connie, he offered himself to you - opening the space beside him for you to join. And you - either the part of you who was tired and desperate to fall asleep or the part of you that was just desperate for him - took the spot almost immediately after the offer was in the air.

You cuddled up close to him, feeling his warm arms wrap around your body and his hot breath decorate the back of your neck. You fell asleep to the rhythm of his chest rising and falling against your back. It was a comfortable sleep - dreamless and warm - and only a few minutes after falling into deep sleep, you were suddenly awoken by aggressive shaking by your side.

“Connie,” You mumbled hazily into the now dark living room, “Connie, wake up.”

Connie mumbled in his sleep, his body shaking vigorously in the small space between you and the back of the couch. You tried to listen to what he was saying - or, more like what he was trying to say - but you couldn’t understand a single word. You thought maybe your mind was still groggy from the sleep or maybe he was speaking an entirely different language.

“Connie,” You whispered more clearly this time, trying to wake him up, “Wake up, you’re having a nightmare.”

Or at least you were assuming he was having a nightmare.

“Wake up-”

Connie woke up suddenly, causing you to jump back from him. Connie’s hazel eyes suddenly took you in, widening at the close sight of you. And, neither of you could disagree with one fact - it was nice being this close to each other, to be close enough to see every inch of the other features and close enough to kiss.

Your head was still heavy from your own lack of sleep and having to wake him up didn’t help shake any wakefulness into you at all. You wondered why you felt so hazy despite being wide awake, it felt as if everything surrounding you was a whole realm away from you. And, the strangest part was that Connie didn’t feel fake, he was the realest thing around you.

“Hi,” Connie whispered softly into the inch between your faces, “Or, should I say good morning?”

You smiled, “No, it’s not even morning yet - it’s still dark outside.”

“Right.” Connie grinned at you. “Good night.”

You giggled breathlessly into the space - or, lack therefore of - in between you and Connie’s lips. It was strange being this close to him and not feeling even an ounce of nervousness. Your heart was beating at a normal rate and your face was at a normal temperature. Your physical reaction to his body being pressed into your side as you laid on your stomach was completely new to you, you had never been so cool before, especially around Connie.

And, focusing on Connie had become easy for you at the moment, especially with the haziness of the room around you. Focusing on his facial features; focusing on his complexly colored eyes, focusing on the light stubble that had begun to grow on his jaw and cheeks, and focusing on his full lips. It was somehow especially easy to focus on his lips, even when he began to talk.

“I see you’re staring,” Connie said with a grin, “‘See something you like, darling?”

With this new haziness you also found a new confidence.

You blinked at him, “Yes, I do.”

“Oh, really?” Connie licked his lips delicately. “What?”

“You.”

Your eyes flashed up to Connie’s eyes. In that split second before your lips were on his, you could see a spark of something in his eyes. It was an emotion you noticed a lot in his eyes, but had never had the courage to admit it to yourself. The emotion was recognition, like he was reliving something he had done many times before. And, you hated to admit to yourself that maybe Connie wasn’t a good guy, but rather exactly like every other man on this planet.

But, before you had made the decision to be scared of his experience, you allowed yourself to lean forward and press your lips to his own. You ignored that flash of emotion in his eyes, and kissed him anyway. You honestly didn’t care if Connie had some stupid ulterior motive, you could give it to him - you craved to give everything he wanted to him.

Connie’s had slipped down the side of your body as his lips continued to work against your own. His fingers danced delicately down your body, moving over your curves the way a car drives down a backroad. His fingertips started at your shoulder blade and slowly made its way over your ribs, your side, your hip and then finally over the curve of your ass.

Connie slipped his hand under the waist of your pajama pants. His hand was anything but gentle as he tugged at the fabric of your pants. He didn’t have to ask for what he wanted, you knew exactly what it was and you wanted to give it to him. You groaned against his mouth one last time before moving onto your knees to push your pajama pants over your legs and to the floor beside the couch.

Connie watched you from where he laid below you. His eyes were heavy on your body as they looked over your newly bare legs. He brought his hand up to the bottom of your shirt, whispering with a cocky smirk spread across his cheeks.

“This too,” Connie said as he tugged on the thin fabric.

You gulped before nodding and doing as he said. You pulled the shirt over your head and threw it to the floor as well. Connie sucked in a quick breath at the new sight of you, practically naked in front of him - only your panties decorating your body.

You leaned close to Connie, pressing the ghost of your lips against his. You kept your eyes open and you were glad, since that gave you the opportunity to see Connie’s absolute hunger for you. You watched how his face scrunched up and his mouth moved towards your mouth, hoping for any type of kiss - long or short, passionate or boring, anything - from you.

“Connie,” You whispered against his mouth, “Where do you want me?”

Connie leaned back from you, eyeing you questioningly before patting his lap suggestively. You raised your eyebrows for a second before hopping on top of him. You straddled his waist on the unbearably small living room couch. You can’t believe you were embarrassed earlier, just to be standing in the kitchen with him, but now you were dry humping into the couch cushions below his body.

You moved your hips against the zipper of his jeans, feeling your stomach grow queasy from the feeling. You had never had anything close to this feeling before, it was like the better part of the feeling of being embarrassed in front of a classroom of people. It was a positive version of nervousness and embarrassment and it felt so fucking good.

You desperately gripped Connie’s t-shirt as you felt your body already start to fall apart on top of him. You moaned out into the empty space around you, closing your eyes as you grinded helplessly into his lap. Connie’s hands on your hips only guided you further, helping you create circles with your body to hit every single sensitive part.

“H-hey-hey,” Connie said desperately, just seeing you in this new position was driving him insane, “Not too quick, I’m just trying to turn you on, not give you an orgasm just yet.”

You looked down at Connie, feeling a bit embarrassed by your lack of patience. You had never been this driven by sex, it was like your horniess took over your mental wheel and wouldn’t let go. And, your entire body only felt more embarrassed knowing there must be a pretty big wet spot decorating the crotch of his sweatpants.

“Sorry,” You whispered timidly to Connie.

Connie grinned, “Don’t be sorry, baby - just let me help you.”

Connie lifted you off of him ever so slightly, just enough to push down his sweatpants and take out his already hard cock. You tried not to get a good look at it, not wanting to feel your nerves bubble back up if you could sneak a peek. Instead, you blindly trusted Connie, you let him line himself up and gently press push himself into you.

It was somehow better than the dry humping, and only a few minutes ago - you hadn’t thought that was possible. You continued to grind against his hips, remembering the silent tips he had given you when it was only his sweatpants. But now, with every circle of your body against his, you were gasping and moaning and he was cursing below you.

“Oh fuck.” Connie reached upward and brought your face down to him, giving you sloppy kisses across your lips and face. “You feel so good- so, so good.”

Your hips began to falter, your stomach tightening with pleasure. Connie felt the distance you were trying to create between your bodies - and he couldn’t blame you, you just didn’t know what was happening to your body, you didn’t realize he was going to give you your first orgasm. Connie tried to eliminate the distance you created, humping upwards into your entrance and only creating more pressure in your abdomen.

“Connie,” You moaned against his mouth, “Connie, I-I- don’t-”

Connie nodded against your face, “Just let yourself go, don’t worry - I’ve got ‘ya.”

So - as you always did - you did as Connie said and you let yourself go. In the peak of your orgasm, the haziness in the room around you began to disappear. Actually, the haziness wasn’t disappearing, the whole room was. And, slowly, Connie was disappearing from underneath you as well.

Before Connie had completely gone, you heard him whisper, “Don’t worry - I got ‘ya.”

Your eyes snapped awake to the sound of some strangely upbeat song playing in the living room. You lifted your head from Connie’s chest and glanced at the tv only to realize the song was a part of the end of the romantic comedy Connie had chosen about two hours ago.

It seemed you had imagined the whole experience. There were no strewn clothes, no orgasmic sex, no grinding and no fun. Instead, it was just you and Connie: as dressed as ever and snoring lightly into the dark living room except for the light coming from the credits of the movie still playing on the tv in front of you. And, when you shifted from one hip to the other, now pressing your backend into Connie, you felt the slightly uncomfortable presence of wetness in your panties.

The weirdest part was you didn’t feel like a virgin anymore, but maybe your dream was just extremely believable - you had always had a vast imagination.

It’s come to my attest that I should probably post some of the art for Demons &Drag since I can’t focus long enough to finish the last eat chapter currently so

Here

In order we have Jem, Surri and Anitri

You did this to me…

I haven’t posted in a while so… have some sketches of my oc Zane!

I made a human version of Verin! He uses this form to lure men in before going Incubus~ therefore he's more slender, shorter than his incubuz form, a little more feminine, but still with a nice body to lure in the big daddy types. his human name is Valentine!

He a cute gay boio, but also a trap to the male population~

Heyyy, I've just been busy creating OCs with my best friend and it's fun😂😂😖

So here's yet another OC I drew! Meet Verin, an Incubus baby boio.

Verin also means "the impatient one" or something along those lines, and I thought that would fit an Incubus!

Incubus

— Are you sleeping?~

just an incubus :/

You just don’t understand how much I love this man

ilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehim🖤

Safe to say the imperium series is wrecking me.

Title: [Untitled fantasy smut project]

Genre: Fantasy, Smut

Chapter: 5

Chapter Rating: NSFW 18+

Series Summary: Lawrence Viscara, an aristocrat vampire from a famous noble family, is afflicted with a hex that causes him to go into heat. To help him recover and keep him from embarrassing the Viscara name he sent away from prying eyes to live with Syrath, a high class Incubus escort, who is hired to tend to his needs.

A/N: TWO CHAPTERS IN ONE NIGHT??!!?!

Read here

Title: [Untitled fantasy smut project]

Genre: Fantasy, Smut

Chapter: 4

Chapter Rating: NSFW 18+

Series Summary: Lawrence Viscara, an aristocrat vampire from a famous noble family, is afflicted with a hex that causes him to go into heat. To help him recover and keep him from embarrassing the Viscara name he sent away from prying eyes to live with Syrath, a high class Incubus escort, who is hired to tend to his needs.

A/N: New Chapter!!! What's this? Plot? In my PWP?! Stay tuned~

Read here

Title: [Untitled fantasy smut project]

Genre: Fantasy, Smut

Chapter: 3

First Chapter - Previous chapter - Next chapter Coming soon :)

Chapter Rating: NSFW 18+

Series Summary: Lawrence Viscara, an aristocrat vampire from a famous noble family, is afflicted with a hex that causes him to go into heat. To help him recover and keep him from embarrassing the Viscara name he sent away from prying eyes to live with Syrath, a high class Incubus escort, who is hired to tend to his needs.

Chapter Content Warnings: Explicit smut, Male masturbation, M/M smut scene, Oral

A/N: had so much fun writing the previous chapter that I just couldn't help myself and kept writing.

— Chapter 3 —

Lawrence couldn’t be sure if it was the hex or if it was the sheets that carried Syrath’s scent that caused the urge he felt when he awoke. He lifted the sheets to his face and took a deep breath, soaking in the scent, coffee and grapefruits. He slowly sat up stretching, before rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. When he was awake enough to see, his breath hitched. Syrath was in the room, shirtless. 

“Wh-” Lawrence stuttered, pulling the sheet up to cover his nudity, “What are you doing in here?! Are you some kind of pervert?”

“Well firstly, yes.” Syrath shrugged, amused, “But this is my bedroom, where I keep my clothes, so that wasn’t my intention… this time.”

“A… I…”

“And secondly it’s bold of you to call me a pervert when you were just smelling another man’s sheets. Is that a fetish of yours?” he teased.

“GET OUT!” Lawrence exclaimed, pointing to the door. 

“Okay, okay” Syrath laughed, grabbing a shirt off the door and shutting it behind him.

Lawrence let out a breath of relief that he didn’t know he was holding. The sight of Syrath, despite himself, sent a fresh flush through Lawrence. He lifted the sheet to look at himself, fully erect. Syrath probably saw the bulge through the sheets. For the second day in a row, he felt humiliated. There was a knock at the door, Lawrence jumped, pulling the sheets up again.

“Your bags arrived a bit earlier, I’ve left them at the foot of the bed for you”

Lawrence didn’t respond.

“Get dressed and I’ll prepare us some breakfast. The door to your left is for the bathroom”

Lawrence waited until he heard Syrath footsteps get further from the door before he jumped out of the bed. He had himself a quick shower and managed to calm himself down with some self-pleasure. He then returned and opened his bags, rummaging through for outfits and makeup. If Syrath thought he was the only one who could be sexy, he had another thing coming. 

—

Syrath took off his apron. He could tell why Lawrence took so long in the shower, he could instinctually sense the pleasure in the air. He did realise that this was exactly what Syrath was hired for, didn’t he? Syrath set the dining table, plated up their breakfast, a fresh croissant sliced in half and filled with melted cheese and freshly chopped tomatoes. Syrath knew he wasn’t going to compare to the Viscara households chefs, but the ingredients carried most of this dish. The bedroom door finally clicked open.

Lawrence emerged wearing a backless tuxedo vest with nothing underneath, showing off his pale porcelain skin. His shorts, again falling to his mid thigh, now revealed legs encased in fishnets instead of being bare. His eyeliner was the same thin charcoal ring, but his lips were a gaudier shade of matte purple. He walked to the dining table and sat across from Syrath, who was admittedly a little stunned at the obvious provocation of Lawrence’s choice of clothes. 

“What? Speechless?” Lawrence quipped.

“Not at all,” Syrath replied, taking his seat, “I was simply enjoying the view.”

Lawrence blushed a little, but he didn’t mind being complimented. He picked up his croissant, took a bite. Then another. Then another. 

“How is it?” Syrath said, smiling.

“I’ve had better” Lawrence responded between chews of his last bite.

“I’m sure you have, as they say ‘Viscara blood demands the best’, but I’m sure the next course won’t disappoint.”

“Next course?”

Syrath tilted his head, exposing his neck, brushed aside a few stray hairs from his nape. “How do you want to do this?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” Lawrence huffed. He snatched Syrath's wrist and brought it to his lips, the distinct smell of coffee and grapefruits washed over him. His fangs pierced Syrath’s skin with little resistance, and he slowly sucked. 

Syrath’s blood was a bit strange to Lawrence. Not at all what he expected. He thought incubus blood would be more pungent, but instead, it had a bittersweetness, with a little more thickness than a human’s. It had a decadent moreish quality to it, like chocolate truffles or macaroons. 

Lawrence glanced up, his gaze catching Syrath smirking and placing a hand on his cheek in amusement. Lawrence furrowed his brow and stopped. 

“Something funny?” He said annoyed.

“No,” Syrath replied nonchalantly, “I simply enjoy watching when someone sucks me off.”

“You indecent, vulgar, creature!” Lawrence snapped, standing from his chair. His cheeks flushed red.

“That is,” Syrath began, lifting his arm to his face, “why you hired me.” He gently kissed the purple lip mark on his wrist.

“I-” Lawrence stuttered, “I don’t care what Tati said, you aren’t fit to serve the Viscara.”

“You seem to be mistaken. I am no servant to your blood.” Syrath said, his voice lowering, “I am no one’s servant.”

Lawrence winced at the sudden cold in the air.

“As Lady Viscara mentioned, you are under my roof, and I am under no obligation to continue to shelter you.” Syrath stood, walked to the coat rack at Lawrence’s back, “So if I were you, I’d reconsider my position for the remainder of my time here.” He said locking eyes with Lawrence while putting on his jacket, grabbing his keys.

“Where are you going?” Lawrence questioned.

“You’re not my only client.” Syrath answered.

“Why?”

“Why what?” Syrath raised an eyebrow.

“Why do you need other clients? We’re paying you more than enough to not have to work while I’m here.” Lawrence pressed, stroking his arm both from the chill still heavy in the air and a mild sense of guilt.

“If it was just about the money, I wouldn’t be nearly as good as I am.” Syrath said with a smirk, the warmth in the air returning. “And the Viscara would never have considered me if I wasn’t the best.” Syrath turned to leave but paused at the door. He turned back and walked over to Lawrence, pressed a gentle kiss on his forehead, “I’ll return before dark.” He said, before turning and leaving. 

Lawrence stood there for a moment in shock at the emotional whiplash. His mind spun. The tenderness of Syrath’s lips, contrasting the cold in the air from earlier, left a burning brand on his skin. He raised his fingertips to his lips, knowing he wouldn’t have been able to control himself if Syrath had kissed there instead. He slumped back into the chair. He was used to being around beautiful people, it was basically all that vampire society consisted of, but something about Syrath was different to him. It was why he chose him in the first place. He saw a… rawness. A hunger in his sunset eyes that made Lawrence want to be the one to quench it. And just then, even though he was being scolded, he felt goosebumps on his skin, but he wasn’t afraid. He was excited. Something about Syrath made him want to forgo all of the etiquette that was taught to him since young, yet his pride as a Viscara would not allow it.

—

Syrath found Lawrence reading on the couch when he returned. He had changed his clothes to something more suited for lounging, a sleeveless turtleneck and some loose fitting shorts. He was reading a poetry book, it was a first edition, gifted to Syrath by one of his more affluent clients. Most of what decorated his media cabinet were similar gifts. He was especially fond of the statuette of a torso that he had been the model for. He doesn’t see that client anymore, but she was able to capture Syrath’s lithe figure down to the tiniest detail. She was very good with her hands at both sculpting, and… other things. Syrath hung his coat, placed his keys back in their spot. As he approached Lawrence put the book to the side and stood.

“Syrath, I-” Lawrence stuttered, “I’m sorry… For earlier.”

Syrath raised an eyebrow at the sudden apology, more shocked than he was at Lawrence’s outfit that morning. 

“It’s just that... Blood. It’s precious. I was raised to always be respectful when feeding, and…”

“No, I’m sorry also.” Syrath interrupted, “I know nothing of vampire culture. I’ll keep it in mind for the future.”

Lawrence paused. Well that was half a day worrying wasted, he thought.

“I had a look around while you were out, unpacked a few of my things.” Lawrence said, “I mean, as long as you don’t mind, this is your roof and -”

Syrath chuckled, kissed Lawrence on his cheek, “Make yourself at home.” He headed to the bedroom, “I’m going to shower. If you’re feeling comfortable, wait for me on the bed, if not, don’t.”

Lawrence felt his stomach tighten. Shortly after he heard the shower running he entered the bedroom, stripped, then waited on the bed. He was trying to figure out the sexiest position to present himself when he felt it. 

The heat. 

The hex. 

It welled up in him like magma. He doubled over from the sudden stimulation, his hand already reaching down to stroke. He didn’t want Syrath to see him like this, to see him when he lost control of himself, but with every stroke the heat grew. Every toss, every turn against the silk sheets made his skin tingle. He bit down, hard, on the pillow case, his hand moving faster out of desperation. He was so engrossed that he didn’t notice the sound of the door click open and shut. Didn’t notice the sound of the towel drop to the floor, or the dip in the bed as Syrath crawled over to him. He didn’t notice until he felt warm breath against his ear.

“You should have called for me” Syrath said, reaching his hand around, taking hold of Lawrence’s. He pulled Lawrence over, on top of his lap. “”Show me,” Syrath ordered, running his finger over Lawrence’s lips, pressing a kiss to his nape, “I want you to show me how you pleasure yourself.”

Lawrence started slow, stroking the length from base to tip, trying to show some semblance of control over himself, even though the heat felt as if it were about to boil over. The feeling of Syrath’s hand along with his was taking him to his breaking point. He began to speed up, couldn’t tell if he was doing it or if Syrath was. Syrath gently laid kisses on his neck, his lips making their way to his shoulder. He let out a moan, a drop of water from Syrath’s wet hair hitting his collar, rolled down his chest. 

Syrath took control of Lawrences heat, squeezing it tight to stop him from finishing.

“How did you know?” Lawrence said through gritted teeth.

“Because I am as you said, an indecent, vulgar, creature.” Syrath answered, lightly nipping the point of Lawrence’s ear. Lawrence raised his other hand to his mouth, trying to muffle his yelp, but the sound escaped him.

Syrath used his other hand, rubbing Lawrence’s tip against his palm while still holding tight. 

“S… Syrath… Fais… Fais-moi jouir” Lawrence begged between moans.

Syrath loosened his grip, allowed Lawrence to release the pleasure into his palm. Syrath drew it in, the pleasure, the hex. He wouldn’t have it interfere. He and he alone would be the one to take Lawrence to his breaking point. Syrath brought his hand up to his mouth. Licked it clean. The distinct salty flavour familiar to him, yet still unique to every partner he’s been with. Syrath spun Lawrence around, laid him on his back.

“You tasted me earlier, how about I return the favour?” Syrath said as he dipped his head down.

It wasn’t the first time Lawrence had someone’s lips around his shaft, but it was the first time it felt like this. Was it the hex’s doing? Or was it that Syrath instinctually knew his weak points? Whatever the case, Lawrence knew that he wouldn’t last long. His fingers gripped Syrath's hair as he continued to suck. He looked down and met Syrath’s sunset coloured eyes, saw the dark hunger in them that he’d noticed since the very first photos he saw. 

“Putain!” Lawrence exclaimed, his head snapped back in pleasure as he reached his breaking point. Syrath swallowed it all, taking it one gulp at a time. 

Syrath pulled his head back, letting Lawrence go with the satisfying pop sound of him releasing suction. He made his way up Lawrence's body, his lips dropping light marks against Lawrence’s abdomen, over Lawrence’s chest, his neck, until he was nibbling at his earlobe, all the while still stroking, stoking the flames so they wouldn't burn out. 

Syrath pulled back slightly, just enough to see Lawrence. He was slick with sweat, his gaze hazy with pleasure. 

Lawrence wrapped his arms around Syrath, his nails slightly digging into his back. He pulled himself up, pressed his lips against Syrath’s, forcing a kiss. Syrath allowed himself to be rolled over onto his back. Lawrence let himself go, pressing kisses all over Syrath, down his jaw, his neck, leaving a trail of purple marks in his lip’s wake. Lawrence stopped when he reached Syrath’s collar, could feel the steady pulse just under his skin. He couldn’t help himself. His fangs dug in and he indulged in the sweet taste of Syrath’s blood without restraint.

Syrath stroked Lawrence’s damp hair while he drank, cradling the small of his back. His voice, silk with a hint of satisfaction, cooed gently in Lawrence’s ear.

After a moment Lawrence’s fangs slowly retreated, his lips parting with the flesh around Syrath’s clavicle. 

“You okay?” Syrath inquired, wiping away a tear that pricked at Lawrence’s eye, smudging the black eyeliner around it.  

Lawrence responded with a small nod, laying his head on Syrath’s chest.

“Merci.” Lawrence said after a moment. He reached his hand down, noticing Syrath’s hardness pressing against him, planning to return the favour. Syrath gently grabbed his wrist before he could start.

“Not tonight.” Syrath said, “I’ll take you in your entirety after you get over this hex.”

Lawrence didn’t protest. It was what he wanted too.

Syrath looked at his fingers, stained purple, knowing his face and neck would be the same, “But really, you couldn’t have afforded a lipstick that doesn’t smear?”

Lawrence blushed, “I-” he turned his face away, “I like that it leaves a mark.”

Syrath grinned, his subtle annoyance at the marks on him becoming an appreciation. 

— End of Chapter 3 —

Next Chapter - Coming soon

French:

Fais-moi jouir - Make me come

Putain - fuck

A/N: Really hoped you enjoyed this chapter, again any feedback is more than welcome. Hope you look forwards to what comes next

No teaser yet, will edit this post to add it when I'm deeper into chapter 4 :)

Title: [Untitled fantasy smut project]

Genre: Fantasy, Smut

Chapter: 2

Previous chapter - Next Chapter

Chapter Rating: NSFW

Series Summary: Lawrence Viscara, an aristocrat vampire from a famous noble family, is afflicted with a hex that causes him to go into heat. To help him recover and keep him from embarrassing the Viscara name he sent away from prying eyes to live with Syrath, a high class Incubus escort, who is hired to tend to his needs.

Chapter Content Warnings: Sexual Themes, Sexual Innuendo, Non-explicit chapter

A/N: Had a lot of fun writing this chapter, and am looking forwards to how to next one turns out :)

— Chapter 2 —

Syrath sipped his evening chai, scrolling through the details his agent emailed over one last time. This job intrigued him more than usual. He perched neatly on the black woven chair on his balcony as he continued to scroll. An NDA? He was used to being asked to keep his relations discrete, that wasn’t what piqued his interest. A male client? He had no qualms about his client’s gender or genitalia, he knew how to get them off either way. Bloodletting? Again not a first, a few of his Fae clients have even taken a liking to his blood. No, it was who his client was this time. A vampire. An aristocrat at that. They were usually an old fashioned bunch who looked down upon most of the pleasures his ilk had to offer. However, here was one hiring him, with an additional clause for extended cohabitation. Sure, he’d had clients ask to stay at his place before, but not usually for longer than a night or two. Something was definitely odd. It seemed very out of character from everything he knew of vampires. 

Syrath looked down from his balcony as a black car, polished to a mirror finish, pulled up at the apartment complex. The driver was the first to leave the vehicle, an older woman in a suit. She walked around to the passenger door and opened it allowing Eleanor Viscara to emerge in all her pristine ruthless splendour. The woman then opened the rear door. Out emerged a young man. His pale blonde hair and ruby eyes a clear indication of his relation to the head of the Viscara blood. His body was adorned in a beautiful midnight blouse, tucked in at his waist, paired with shorts a shade darker, held with burgundy suspenders, that came to his mid thigh. Although his outfit was simple, it was carefully tailored to show off his svelte frame. The shorts emphasised his slender porcelain legs. The suspenders, intricately detailed with a floral pattern. The blouse, open-collared, framed his delicate neck. 

That, Syrath thought to himself, is definitely a vampire.

—

Lawrence checked his reflection in the elevator. Checked his hair which, although usually went down to his shoulders, was now kept in a low ponytail. He checked his makeup, puckering to check his lipgloss, a natural shade of pink that added sheen to his velvety lips, fluttered his lashes to check his eyeliner, a subtle charcoal ring that made the pale blonde strands pop even more than they already did. 

“I will never understand your incessant use of cosmetics.” Eleanor said with a sigh, “You are already one of the most beautiful of our blood.”

“I’m too proud to be simply ‘one’ of the most beautiful.” Lawrence quipped, tucking some loose hairs behind his slightly pointed ear. 

“Your vanity is unquestionably why you were hexed, ma poupée” she joked. 

The elevator chimed as they reached their floor, 6. They walked through the well decorated hallway, the driver first, scanning the doors for potential threats to her masters. They then reached an apartment with roman numerals on the door LXIX.

“Oh, c'est mignon," the driver remarked, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on her lips, as she knocked on the door. 

A man answered. He was slightly taller than Lawrence imagined, and looked impossibly more handsome than he did in photos. His midnight hair was artfully disheveled, his sharp features sculpted, reminiscent of classical statues and paintings. His eyes were framed by dark lashes, long and thick, that contrasted the bright sunset colour of his irises. He wore a long sleeved t-shirt with the shoulders cut out, exposing his umber skin and causing butterflies in Lawrence’s stomach. 

Syrath invited them in. The driver took Eleanor's jacket, holding it gently folded over her arm so as not to leave any creases. Syrath guided them through his well kept home. They walked past the coat hooks and entryway bench by the entrance, where jackets, shoes and keys were neatly hung, to a large open-plan space that served as both living and dining area. The gleaming dark wood floors stretched, flawless beneath their steps, leading to a kitchen anchored by black marble counters streaked with elegant gold veins. He led them to the living room area, where a large TV sat in a sleek media cabinet, the shelves thoughtfully arranged with various trinkets and books. Opposite the cabinet sat a charcoal-grey sofa that looked invitingly deep and comfortable.

“Please, have a seat” he said, indicating to the couch, his voice smooth as velvet.

Eleanor and Lawrence sat, the driver choosing to remain standing at Eleanor’s side. Syrath grabbed himself a chair from the dining table and pulled it over to sit opposite them. 

“Am I safe to assume you’ve read through our terms?” Eleanor started.

“You are.” Syrath answered. 

“I suppose you have questions”

“I do,” He responded, crossing his legs, “Like why would someone of noble blood such as yourself be seeking my services, have you come seeking forbidden pleasures not found amongst the elites?” He mocked.

“Show some respect!” Lawrence exclaimed, shooting forwards. Eleanor caught him by the collar and pulled him back to his seat. 

“Tiens-toi bien, ma poupée”

“But Tati-”

“No buts, we are here under his roof, asking for his assistance, you should be the one showing respect.” Eleanor turned her attention back to Syrath, “Apologies for my nephew’s rude outburst.”

“No need.” Syrath said with a smirk.

“The reason we need your services is because my nephew here has been hexed.”

“I thought your blood was immune to such sorcery?”

“So did I!” Lawrence chimed. 

Eleanor sighed, “Yes, but it seems that this one has managed to bypass our natural defences. As such we need to keep him safe and out of the public eye for a time.”

“You realise that I am no bodyguard.”

“Obviously” Lawrence huffed, crossing his arms.

“And I am no one's servant.”

“We need you because of the kind of sorcery he is afflicted with. An Amor’s Arrow hex.”

“The love spell?”

“A variation of it, our physician seems to believe. He’s mentioned physical intimacy as the best treatment.”

“I see.” Syrath answered, tapping his chin.

“Of course, we included a bloodletting clause for obvious reasons. And I trust the importance of discretion in the matter is understood” Eleanor said, the implicit threat clear.

Syrath nodded, the unspoken warning understood.

“As for the details of how you two cohabitate, we can leave that for the two of you to discuss in private.”

“Sounds fair.”

“Do you have any qualms with any of our terms or any other questions?”

“I’ve got the gist. But there is one thing,” Syrath turned his attention to Lawrence, “So, are you a virgin?”

“Excuse me!” Lawrence’s face flushed, “W-What does that have to do with-”

“For me to properly do my role I need to know your level of experience. I would like to keep things safe and fun for the both of us, so I don’t want anything like this to come as a surprise later.”

“That seems reasonable,” Eleanor chimed, “Ma poupée?”

“N-No, I am not.” Lawrence stuttered, turning his face away in embarrassment, 

“Je vois…” Eleanor smirked. The driver also smirking, though barely.

“Tati!” Lawrence exclaimed. 

Eleanor giggled a little, “Je rigole, of course I already knew Laurie. You are terrible at keeping secrets.”

Lawrence huffed and folded his arms in protest. 

“I believe you should discuss the rest my nephew’s ‘level of experience’ in private.” Eleanor said, turning her attention back to Syrath, “Can I take it you accept?”

“I do.” Syrath said, with a hint of amusement. 

“Très bien!” Eleanor exclaimed, as she stood, “Then I shall take my leave for the night.” 

“Allow me to see you out.” Syrath stood as well. 

“I will have your bags here by the morning.” Eleanor said to Lawrence, with a light kiss on his forehead, before following Syrath to the door, the driver alongside her.

“One last thing before you go.” 

“Go on” Eleanor enquired, the driver helping to put on her jacket.

“Why did you decide on me?” Syrath queried quietly, opening the door for them.

“Oh that’s simple.” Eleanor smiled, “Lawrence chose you.”

“He did?”

“Oui, out of the list of candidates we had, you must have appealed to him the most.”

“His attitude surely doesn’t indicate that.”

“Mais non, he’s simply being bashful. Ma poupée can be… Abrasive at first. But he will warm to you,” Eleanor stepped out of the apartment, followed by the driver, “as I’m sure, you will to him.” 

“I see.” Syrath said, skeptically.

“Well then, I bid you adieu.” Eleanor said amused. 

“Au revoir, bonne soirée” The driver said, closing the door behind them with a curt nod.

Lawrence jolted a little at the sound of the door closing. He resisted the urge to fidget, acutely aware of Syrath's presence now that they were alone. 

“Come,” Syrath instructed, “I’ll show you the bedroom.” He said, opening a door beside the media cabinet.

Lawrence stood, felt a lump in his throat. 

The bedroom was even more decadent than the rest of Syrath’s home. The dark wood flooring was decorated with a thick luxurious black fur carpet. The walls, a deep indigo the same shade as the midnight sky, were dimly lit by the cove lights in the ceiling. The bed, king sized, had a golden frame and sheets of the finest silk that shimmered, like an ocean. 

“I expect you must be nervous.” Syrath said.

“What for? I am of the Viscara blood. A mere incubus could never intimidate me.” Lawrence deflected.

“And yet,” Syrath leaned in close, gently tilting Lawrence’s chin up to meet his gaze. “You’ve been blushing this whole time.”

“I-” Lawrence faltered, “That’s because you embarrassed me in front of Tati.” He finally said, slapping Syrath’s hand away.

“Sure.” Syrath said smirking, “For tonight I will leave you to rest. Acclimate yourself. I’ll take the couch for tonight. We’ll have plenty of chances to share the bed later.”

— End of Chapter 2 —

Next Chapter

A/N: Decided here I'll put a translation of the french used just in case it wasn't clear based on context: ma poupée - My Doll (Common in french as a term of endearment from an older relative)

Oh, c'est mignon - That's cute (In this sense used ironically at Syrath's door number being 69)

Tiens-toi bien - Behave yourself

Je vois - I see

Je rigole - I'm kidding

Très bien - Very good/Excellent

Oui - yes (surely you knew this one?)

adieu - goodby/farewell

Au revoir - goodbye/see you again

bonne soirée - have a good evening

Chapter 3 teaser

Lawrence glanced up, his gaze catching Syrath smirking and placing a hand on his cheek in amusement. Lawrence furrowed his brow and stopped. 

“Something funny?” He said annoyed.

“No,” Syrath replied nonchalantly, “I simply enjoy watching when someone sucks me off.”

Title: [Untitled fantasy smut project]

Genre: Fantasy, Smut

Chapter: 1

Next Chapter

Chapter Rating: NSFW 18+

Series Summary: Lawrence Viscara, an aristocrat vampire from a famous noble family, is afflicted with a hex that causes him to go into heat. To help him recover and keep him from embarrassing the Viscara name he sent away from prying eyes to live with Syrath, a high class Incubus escort, who is hired to tend to his needs.

Chapter Content Warnings: Mentions of Alcohol, Explicit smut, Male masturbation, M/F smut scene, Oral (F receiving), Foreplay, F Edging

A/N: This is a story that began with the idea of two characters starting with an intense physical relationship but then developing into an emotional one. I'm hoping that the longer this story continues the more it will go from smut to fluff. I'm hoping this prologue will introduce the two leads well, and I know I'm not the best at writing and I would appreciate any feedback. Anyways without any further ado, I hope you enjoy!

Also special shoutout to @g00-d0mens for giving me encouragement and feedback while writing. Love ya hen.

— Chapter 1 —

Lawrence blinked in confusion. His ruby coloured eyes wide with disbelief. Hexed. He, a vampire aristocrat, hexed. That couldn’t be right. He was above the tricks of human sorcery. He was Lawrence Viscara, pure blooded vampire royalty. There must have been some other explanation. Perhaps his family’s physicians had missed something. Yet the same pride that drove such thoughts also told him that all who served the Viscara house were second-to-none, his blood would tolerate nothing less. 

“It’s quite a peculiar affliction.” the physician chimed, “It’s a tailored variation of the Amor’s Arrow Hex.”

“I don’t care what it is. Merde!” Lawrence snapped, “Why, or better yet, HOW is it that a mere love charm is affecting me?!” he spat. 

“Well I did say it was tailored…” the physician murmured.

Lawrence pinched his brow and let out a frustrated sigh, “And what exactly does ‘tailored’ mean in this sense?”

“Well,” the physician began, his eyes lighting up, “much like curses, hexes are stronger when their target is better defined or, as I mentioned, tailored. In a case like this for something a simple as an Amor’s Arrow hex to affect a pure blood such as yourself means-”

“-that someone is targeting you specifically.” a woman interrupted. 

“Tati!” Lawrence exclaimed, uncrossing his legs and straightening his posture. 

“Madame Viscara,” the physician uttered, standing to bow. 

Eleanor Viscara flowed into Lawrence’s bedroom as if she were the very embodiment of ancient lineage, her stride a living testament to generations of power and prestige. Each step she took was measured, each stride of her majestic gait deliberate, as to invoke a sovereign majesty, born not of mere descent, but of a sacred, violent heritage. Her hair, the same pale blonde as her nephew’s, was neatly fashioned in a traditional braided updo. She wore a purple brocade dress, hand woven with an intricate design, telling the stories of bloodsoaked battles and fallen kings. The various jewels, necklaces and rings that adorned her whispered to the preferences of previous heads of the Viscara bloodline. 

“Laurie, ma poupée, you look haggard.” Eleanor stated, a hint of affection in her tone, as she took the seat the physician stood from. 

“Tati, I-”

“Don’t fret, you’re not the first of our blood to fall victim to a curse or two,” she jested, “just a handful of millenia ago, before you were born, your cousin got on the wrong side of a Djinn. For a decade the blood he drank tasted of what he could only describe as wood chips and pencil shavings. Although he seemed to have acquired the taste, even today he’ll often drink blood with a vile accompanied bottle of Malört.”

“But why would someone hex me?” Laurie implored, “And why with… This?”

“You,” Eleanor began, stroking Lawrence’s cheek,  “are too beautiful for your own good, and I would imagine that whoever did this had… rather perverse intentions. Rassure-toi, ma poupée, our blood is strong and will fight this with time, during which I will have to keep you out of sight.”

“Out of sight?” Lawrence questioned, “for how long?”

“Until this affliction subsides, Laurie. You know how important it is for us to maintain our public perception, we cannot allow any hint of weakness to show, and unlike with your cousin this isn’t something you’d be able to bear with and hide.”

“I-” Lawrence hesitated. He wrestles with the idea of trying to hide it, but memories of the previous night when he experienced it for the first time told him otherwise. The unforgiving heat that welled up inside him. His futile attempts to quench the fire that burned at him from within. His whole body flushed, sensitive to every touch, even the smallest brushing against his bedsheets sending shocks to coursing through his body. By the time sunlight began creeping through his curtains and the effects subsided he was left breathless in sheets soaked through with sweat and cum.

He had to submit to the truth. She was right. 

“If I may,” the physician offered respectfully, “although there is no ‘cure’ to an amor’s arrow hex there are recommended treatments. The method with the most studied benefits is-” the physician paused, reading their gazes and trying to come up with the best words as not to insult. 

“Well, go on?” Lawrence huffed, “If there’s any way to speed up the process just spit it out already.”

“Physical intimacy-” the physician muttered before clearing their throat, “Physical intimacy has been noted as the fastest method of causing the effects to subside.”

“Ah… oui. There is always the chance that the caster will try to approach you, or worse this could be a planned attack on our standing. I’ll make arrangements.”

—

Syrath was busy when his agent called him. His tongue buried deep within a woman he’d met only a few hours prior. 

“Sy… please… ” the woman begged.

Syrath let his teeth scrape softly against her, a silent warning. He was enjoying every moment of her frustration, relished every whimper, every jolt she couldn’t control. Her thighs clenched around his head and her fingers gripped the pitch black wisps of his hair. He instinctually knew exactly where to lick, where to poke and prod to take her right to her limits, and when to stop to keep her from going over the edge. He gripped one of her thighs and pushed it aside, freeing his lips to wander up her body, against her abdomen, brushing her ribs, over her breasts, against her neck, along her jaw, nipping gently at her earlobes. He pulled back and licked his lips, darkened and wet with saliva, a satisfied smirk on his face. His sunset coloured eyes met hers, and he savoured every drip of her ecstasy. 

“I told you, I’d make you beg.” Syrath purred, his voice smoother than silk. He ran his hand along her thigh, teased his thumb on her clit and spread her with his fingers, his tip pressed against her opening. He loved it, seeing his partners laid bare before him, a thin sheen of perspiration coating their body. It filled him with dark and wanton desires.

— End of Chapter 1—

Next chapter

A/N: I just want to give a massive thank you for reading this all the way to the end. I know I left it on quite the tease, but I think it makes sense for introducing a character like Syrath lol. I'll hopefully be posting a new chapter once a month as long I can keep myself from procrastinating and life doesn't get too hectic. Again any bit of feedback would be greatly appreciated and I hope you'll continue this story with me. Who knows where this'll end up?

Edit:

Chapter 2 Teaser

“Do you have any qualms with any of our terms or any other questions?”

“I’ve got the gist. But there is one thing,” Syrath turned his attention to Lawrence, “So, are you a virgin?”

Cute witch dabbling in black magic and summoning a demon. They think they'll pull forth an Imp. Something pitiful and easy to bind and control. Instead, they end up with a powerful, hungry incubus standing in their summoning circle, towering over them.

The witch isn't powerful enough to control a demon of this...magnitude, and they both know this. The incubus steps out of the circle meant to bind him, magic breaking like cobwebs, hardly even sticking to him as he walks over to his next meal. He could leave. Nothing is keeping him here, but hells, where's the fun in that?