In a way, the rain was a relief. Sora’s jaw still hurt after Alek, the man she had known since she was a little girl, had forced the opening of the bottle past her teeth and held her nose until she drank the aphrodisiac. Lying on her back on the stone alter where they had bound her, she had almost choked on it. Now, the rough rope cut into her wrists and strained against her ribs as she sucked in deep breathes while the fever raked up and down her body in waves. Wearing nothing but a shift dress that had been ripped in the struggle, there was little to protect her naked skin against the hard stone beneath her, the cutting rope and now the heavy, cool raindrops. One hit her forehead and she gasped Then the sky opened and it all came down at once, soaking her through. For the hundredth time, she tugged and writhed against her bonds, able only to arch her back and irritate her shoulders and thighs as the robe rubbed and tightened. They had done a fairly neat job despite the way she had fought, a lattice of ropework across her arms, chest, hips and thighs, dotted with knots that were designed to provoke and torment her. Two against her erect nipples and one against her now swollen, throbbing vulva, likely wet through before the rain started. Every little movement did, indeed, chafe and press against those now electrifyingly sensitive points, causing little gasps and whimpers. Briefly, she had attempted a desperate kind of back-and-forth wriggle in the hopes of some relief, but it hurt her shoulders so badly that she was forced to stop.
The potion was taking effect. Her entirely body felt like it was beating with need. The rain that had once felt like a relief was now just another way for nature to tease and caress her, the cold acting in contrast to the heat. Sora had no idea how long it would take for effects to wear off and, in a mad panic, wondered if they might never stop. She felt her eyes prickle and her nose itch and turned her face into her shoulder, ashamed that she might cry and hating the people who had brought her here.
The sound of the rain changed. It became a heavy plop-plop like water falling on a heavy fabric. She looked up. The sky had been blocked out by a dark sharp, curved and elegant. There was a presence beside her, and though she hid her face and shut her eyes tight, she knew immediately what kind of being it was. Male; powerful and intensely interested in her. Some sense beyond the usual told her all of this, an instinct that made her whole body tremble.
He was touching her, fingers following the lines of rope across her body, his knuckles barely making contact with her but enough that she suddenly found it hard to breathe. This was it. This was the reason why she had been tied up here and left to the mercy of fate. She had not been allowed the dignity of an offering or even the agency of prey, but rather she had been discarded, left outside in the hopes that some creature such as this would come and collect her.
Waste not.
He lay or knelt beside her, plucking and fiddling with the ropes that held her down. As far as she could tell, he was using his wing as a shelter, keeping the rain off her while he worked. She whimpered as she felt the flat of his palm against her skin, apparently searching for an opening or an end. Then she heard him make a sound like a tut and a sigh. The pressure lessened. Several minutes he hovered over her while she tried to control her breathing and her heartbeat, burning with arousal that flared when he touched her. It was almost as much as she could endure, gritting her teeth against the urge to ask – no, to beg – him to do the thing he had come here to do. The relief she felt as the bonds were loosened one by one and then discarded felt too much like pleasure and it was a fight to stop herself from letting out little moans or flex and press pathetically against his hands.
Then, all at once, she felt the last of the pressure lift and she realised she was free. Her limbs were numb and heavy but her heart was racing. Pushing her body into motion, she made to kick away from him, almost falling from the alter. He caught her, hand around her wrist; not forceful enough to hurt her, but enough that she stopped, snared.
“You’re burning up,” he said, and his voice ran a shiver down her spine as if she had been kissed by the wind. It was sweet and songful, clear and inviting. “You have a kind of poison in your body. You know what I am. You know I can flush it from your system. Stay, and I will exhaust the poison. Go, and I will not chase you.”
He released her, and she staggered forward until she came to a stop. True to his word, he didn’t start after her. A fresh wave of heat washed through her and she felt her legs tremble. Now that she was standing, the rainwater was running down her body and she was painfully aware of the throbbing between her legs. Every movement dragged the fabric of the shift against her body.
Sora turned to look at him for the first time. He was perched of the edge of the alter, coiled like a spring. Dark, ashy grey skin and hair the colour of blood that ran in rivulets down his neck and shoulders, turned black by the rain. A powerful dancer’s body, gracefully masculine and lyrical in it’s subtle curves and shapes; a tapering tail that ended in a long, narrow, arrowhead wedge, curled around him, cat-like. His form was framed on either side by vast, powerful wings, as dark as the rest of his body, folded in long, elegant arches and tipped with a vicious, dextrous claw. Then there were his eyes; amber and glittering like gemstones with no iris or pupil, simply endless facets of liquid fire, unmistakably fixed on her.
He didn’t move, made no indication that he was anything more than a beautiful gargoyle carved out of the rock to guard the alter. The air around her felt electric and the already dim light that filtered through the leaves above them darkened. She could feel the storm on her skin. If she were to run now, she would never see him again; of this she was sure. Suddenly, the village, the world beyond this clearing in the woods, a world that, until now, she had believed to be her own, simply ceased to exist. All there was – all that mattered – was the alter and the incubus who was watching her like a great dragon.
“Will it hurt?” she asked, her voice coming out quiet.
Slowly, he shook his head. A shadow of a smile played about the corners of his lips and she had to wilfully hold herself together.
“What will I lose?”
“Your fear.”
Thunder rumbled on the horizon. He watched her, waiting.
Sora could barely breathe, her heart pounding in her throat. It would have been easier if he had raped her while she had been tied to the alter. Then she would not have to face the choice, admit her need, do the impossible, terrible thing of laying out herself for him, vulnerable and honest. Resentment simmered high in her chest. Why couldn’t he just take her? If all the stories she had heard about incubi were half true, then he must be able to feel her desperate need. Why did he have to force her to humiliate herself by coming to him? It wasn’t supposed to go like that.
He broke eye contact with her, his lip curling in a snarl. “If you cannot come to me with your curiosity and desire,” he said; “then I will not have you. Your anger and shame will poison me far worse than the aphrodisiac you were forced to take.”
This stunned her, not only because of his apparent uncanny ability to read her emotions, but the admission of the possibility that he would discriminate. He was not an animal, not a slave to the mechanics of his nature. Suddenly, she realised that this world didn’t follow the rules of the one that had rejected her. Why was she holding on? Why not go to him an lay down on the alter? What was really at stake here?
*Your fear.*
She took a step towards him, and then another. Slowly, as if approaching a snarling wolf, she drew close to him, close enough for him to touch. Then, in an awkward movement, she hoisted herself up onto the alter and carefully resumed her position, this time without the ropes holding her down. A fresh wave of the fever made that spot between her legs throb and she whimpered, clenching her thighs together.
The incubus waited until she exhaled and the shiver had passed, watching her with those eyes full of intent. Then, stretching himself out like a cat, he took his place at the end of the alter, smoothing both of his palms down her legs until she parted them and he could shoulder himself in between them, her right thigh resting against his cheek. All at once she felt his hot breath caressing her vulva and she squirmed, letting out a strained whining sound. In response, he reached up with a free hand, offering it to her. After a moment, she took it and he squeezed her small hand in his. His touch was warm and certain as sun-baked stone. The cool rain was once again soothing, kissing her skin and bringing the fire to the surface, where burned away the harsh red marks that the rope had left on her. She let out a breath.
Then she let out a small cry of shock as the incubus kissed her sex, his lips hot like a brand. She felt, in incredible detail, his tongue find the hot pool of her arousal and drag up, catching her clit and making her buck. His other hand was on her hip, holding her steady as the kiss became deeper, more intense. She sucked in a breath, her chest hurting as it expanded to capacity, arching her back sharply in response to the sudden, hot pleasure. The hand holding his gripped tightly and he squeezed back.
“Breathe, sweetling…” he told her softly, and in the momentarily relief she deflated, sighing out the air in a sweet, erotic moan that made him smile. “Deep breathes…” he said, and then dipped his head once more.
She could feel everything, down to his breath against her pubis. But it was his lips and tongue that arrested every inch of her attention. She could focus on nothing but the slow, massaging press of his tongue as he ran it over the aching parts of her. The storm, the rain, everything that had happened to her was nothing. The soft vibration of his murmurs of contentment were all there was. It was at once a soothing balm to a burning wound and the touch of fire on her skin. She tried to do as he told her, to breathe, but she found herself gasping for air with lungs that hurt for being too full. The heat began to rise in her, but it wasn’t the fever of the aphrodisiac. It was something deeper, coming from her very core as something inside her coiled and contracted with a perfect tension. The feeling intensified until she couldn’t take it any longer and was forced to exhale, releasing it.
But the incubus was relentless, moving faster now. He seemed able to follow her every errant thought and feeling, her every desire. She didn’t need to tell him to slow down or press harder, he was already doing it before she realised it was what she wanted. When she collapsed against him, her breath coming out in whispered pleas, he slowed, becoming almost tender, squeezing her hand and running the flat of his tongue upwards, parting her labia, finding the most sensitive parts of her. When she writhed and fought with herself for control, gasping and gripping his hand with white knuckles, he was rolling the tip of his tongue around her clit, head buried between her legs.
It came in maddening waves that were soon almost worse than the effects of the poison; an endless ebb and flow of pleasure that coloured her pleas with curses.
Then, on the crest of one wave, the coil of tension inside her did not unwind. It only continued to rise, evolving from an infuriating pleasure to an all-consuming, submerging realisation that made her skin prickle all over. A white flash and the thunder soon followed, alarmingly close, but they didn’t stop. For an endless, measureless moment she was poised on the edge of crisis.
She fell into helpless spasms as the tension flooded out of her. Her vision clouded over. Coherent thought was impossible. She thought she had let out a scream or that some animal somewhere had cried out. The incubus was the only thing holding her together, gripping her tight without hurting her with his claws. His lips had been replaced with his hand, simply cupping her mound, the heat soothing to the raw flesh as she grinded against the heel of his hand, riding out her orgasm.
It took a long time before she could breathe deep again. Her whole body was shivering, aching. When she had finally settled, he moved up to hold her, his wings once again shielding them both from the rain. He was kissing her neck, his lips impossibly warm and pleasant, his hands seeming to find all the sore spots in her muscles and easing them away. She could feel the length of his body in a complete embrace. Something wrapped around her left leg like a vine and she realised it was his tail. Something else, long and rigid was pressing against her inner thigh, sliding against the wet skin.
“Will you let me have you?” he whispered against her jaw. “I will make it sweeter than anything you have ever known…”
There was only one answer. She sighed and began to kiss him back, his cheek, his jaw, his lips. When their lips met he seemed to wrap himself around her and she heard him make such a provocative purring murmur that her arousal lifted a second time; though this time it was warm like honey, not the unnatural stinging heat of the aphrodisiac. “Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, I want nothing more.”
His powerful body curved and she felt the tip of his cock find her and press forward, slow and careful. There was a moment of resistance, and then she opened up for him and he pushed inside her, deliciously steady; inch by inch. She felt the exquisite stretch, the sensation of fullness as he seemed to fit so perfectly inside her, her toes curled. He had been right. Nothing in the world had ever felt so perfectly good, so absolutely right. The incubus flattened himself against her body once more, one hand under her hip, the other behind her head, holding her close as she continued to lay little adoring kisses on his neck and shoulder.
They began to move; a slow, steady undulation. She had never learned to do this, but it was as natural and helpless as her heartbeat. Each rise and fall caused him to move in her in a soothing, massaging motion, rocking back and forth, withdrawing and then sliding back, making her moan and whimper. This time, the sounds she made were soft, full, coming not from a rasping, desperate plea, but from deep in her body; a smooth, sweet affirmation. He was purring, the vibrations of his voice reverberating in her chest, his breath beside her ear. This was pleasure; uncomplicated, undemanding. If their bodies would have allowed, they could have danced like this until the sun kissed the horizon.
As it was, his need made itself known. The coil of his tail around her leg tightened as he pressed himself closer. His purring became growls as he clutched her tight. His soft, easy rocking motions became firmer, purposeful, never once losing rhythm but becoming urgent. She could only hold on to him, feeling his strength shift under her hands as she explored him, consumed by him. Her fingers found the spot between his wings, an expanse of corded muscle. He thrust into her, changing the pace once again, and she gripped tight, unconsciously digging her nails in, causing him to moan. In turn, the pressure on her hips increased as he pinned her, locking her in place as his movements became yet more determined.
There was nothing rough or unpolished about it. He moved with an animal instinct, but it wasn’t savage. He was deep inside her, moving in short deep thrusts that pressed and grinded against parts of her that she hadn’t known existed, parts that made every hair on her body stand on end. He pressed his lips close to her ear and let out a breathy hiss.
“I’m going to come inside you.”
In that moment she realised she wanted nothing more in the world. In response, she hooked her free leg around his and kissed him harder, seeking his lips. True to his word, his thrusts now came with a little more force, his whole body pressing closer to her as if he could somehow sink deeper inside her. She could feel herself clenching and twitching around his shaft, now hot, swollen and steel hard inside her, slick with her arousal and sensitive.
Three hard, sharp thrusts and he buried himself in her with a ragged groan, his entire body straining to push still deeper. She felt him pulse and throb inside her, even felt the hot spurt of seed coat her insides and gasped, bucking under him in an imitation of her earlier crisis. From being as taut as a bow string, he seemed to curl in on himself, holding her tight as the tension left his body. She still felt him shiver and push, rubbing his cock a little way inside her, drawing just that little bit more pleasure out of both of them before he couldn’t bare to any longer.
Breathing deep and easy, he wrapped himself around her, tail, wings and all, and they lay together for a time. The rain subsided, the heavy heat in the air had given way the the coolness of true night. Sora thought she should have been cold and uncomfortable, and while she knew she couldn’t stay here forever, the incubus’ body kept her pleasantly warm.
After a while, she said; “Are you Waste?”
“Hmmm?” He stirred, as if he had been dozing. “No, child. That is only what your people call me.”
*Your people*. She wasn’t sure how accurate that was anymore. *Her* people had cast her out and left her here. After what must have been hours in the incubus’ embrace, no one had come to find her.
“Then who are you?”
“I am Want.”
“Oh.” A pause. “Am I… am I pregnant now, Want?”
He ran his fingers through her hair, stretching out one leg. “No, my dear. My kind are not in the business of pregnancy or birth. You will have to find a human man for that.”
“Oh…” she said again. She couldn’t ignore the relief that flooded through her. Lots of women her age in the village, her sisters and peers, wanted to have children, and while she was ambivalent to the idea, knowing that the incubus, Want, had not planted her with his seed meant that there was still some hope of return, of redemption. Taken yes, but perhaps not irreparably soiled. There had been no pain, no blood. Maybe if she were to wash him from her body, they might never know she had been touched.
Want was moving beneath her, snaking his hands under her body so that he could lift her close to his chest. Startled, she clung to him, but he held her sure and steady in powerful arms. She was naked now, her shift left in rags on the alter.
“I think you should be in a bed,” he said softly as he began to walk.
She was about to protest at being taken deeper into the trees, to whatever lair this creature had, but she had no energy. It was as if her body had become a dead weight, her limbs made of lead. He was so perfectly warm and comfortable that she felt herself dozing against his chest.
“Sleep,” he told her. “Tomorrow and it’s choices can wait.”
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/jtyxii/wastewant_monster_incubus_virgin_aphrodisiac_oral
Great story! I look forward to more!! ☺️
A+ the story telling is amazing as is the ‘action’
Cute, love it.