Succubus (Elias and Tiberius)

It seemed like a normal night. Adrift in sleep, a handsome, dark-hairred young man lay in his bed, with an expression of sleepful bliss - pleasent dreams.

His mind was in those worlds, of senselessness, fantasy, wonder. His best friends all with charasmatic color, every sound like a fantasia - perhaps it had all to do with being a bit of a lucid dreamer. Yeah, in fact: he found it rutine to be the one with most control - the symphonies were his to conduct, so to speak. In unconscious desire, though, his mind turned to someone in particular. The world grew dark around her, a twenty-something who looked at him with care - someone he loved or at least had loved a great deal.

With the command of dream, he began to undress her - and his senses brought him to her as he had his way with her - but he was done, without sense of finishment. A cycle began, of a growing sexual desire unfufilled by dream after dream, each of which began with him opening his eyes to find someone else.

He opened his eyes, and was in his room. Quiet, dark, simple - white walls, a tv, a bed, a closet - nothing really else, than the dresser the tv sat upon. But something was different; the desire within him was stronger than ever, and at the same time, the pleasures he felt below him were more intense - he felt like he was actually in someone's mouth.

As his vision came to him, his eyes adjusted to the darkness, as he pulled himself up. It was a tad bit more difficult than what he'd expect, as if gravity existed here. He willed a light, but none came on. After a yawn, he looked down at himself, aching to take care of himself.


And, lo, to his surprise, there was a figure rested on him, mouth to his manhood. In panic, he jumped, yelped even. He looked down at her, and as his eyes focused, he began to make out more detail.

"Wh-who are you? What are you? What are you doing here?"

The questions, as they moved past his lips, were spoken not with a fearful but with a demanding and incredulous tone. It wasn't necessarily angry, nor confused; it was almost matter-of-fact. A low baritone, they had the depth necessary to convey himself.

As his vision returned, he had come to see her in her full beauty there, and himself. He had still an undershirt on, but seeing her with his wet, full manhood so objectively, unabashedly there... Brought to the forefront of his mind what was happening.

The truth was, he was really enjoying the feeling, and from within himself a desire that second by second was growing in intensity - he had to fight from grabbing himself. But he was also a very moral sort of man - having vowed away from it all, he began to think of how he would demand the girl to leave, not yet having noticed the tail or anything that couldn't have been explained as a weird woman in costume.

"What are you doing? Leave, before I call the cops!"

He didn't fear her; he was growing somewhat annoyed. He didn't understand why she was there; he figured he a type of rapist. But he thought she was cute and didn't really have the patience or conviction to see anything happen to her, at least at that moment.

What was possessing him, though, was growing stronger - his left hand came between the two of them, unconsciously grabbing himself. It was obvious he couldn't see himself stop utterly - were she to leave, he'd just finish himself off. But were she to, say, suddenly command him, or sudden increase the power of her attraction, he might just give in to her will.