Selena Aslin is a witch, a specialist in the shadowy arts. On a previous job, she encountered a powerfully sensual incubus and became his companion for the night. Ever since, Selena has been unable to banish thoughts of once more meeting her dark lover and succumbing to more pleasures, thoughts of sex overpowering her day to day life. Is her inability to contain himself a symptom of demonic possession?
This 3,362 word long story contains explicit scenes and is intended for a mature audience.
This story is a mirror of the previously published Unholy Desires: Possession.
"Selena." A chocolaty sort of voice, rich and smooth, addressing me by name. A ripple of pleasure moved through me at that alone, and I grit my teeth as warm fingers moved past my cheek to straighten out the black strands beside my ear. That grazing touch alone left a trail of heat along my skin. "It's been too long." A couple of weeks, yes, and my body agreed with him, that new hunger suddenly rising in my gut.
I turned towards him and managed to clumsily deck the incubus with my halfway folded umbrella, my face a cold, white mask of fury. "What did you do to me?" I growled at him, trying to contain both my animal fury and my seemingly out-of-check libido and failing miserably at both. I took another swing at him, which he merely blocked by raising his arm. For the moment, he seemed human, his skin a warm bronze, his hair a dark wave. His eyes were still yellow, still, but dampened down to a buttery gold rather than the smoldering color of before. He was laughing, both at my outburst and the fact that I was staring at him, and that made my lip curl once more in displeasure.
"Do you like it? Merely an illusion. If you preferred my look before, that's fine by me." He caught my wrist this time before I could try to smack him with my impromptu weapon, turning my arm so I couldn't move it. He was stronger this time, by far, and in a second I found my back pinned against the rain-slicked wall. I dropped my umbrella, with it landing next to me in a crumpled heap. His body was pressed to mine, and he was so warm that I was surprised steam wasn't rising from that body. The illusion was fading, perhaps simply because I didn't believe in it, revealing the thick black horns erupting from his skull, the flawless, slate-colored skin. He was grasping my other arm, then, before he was pulling both above my head. I was trapped, utterly at his mercy. "I find your temperament most... Delicious." As if to punctuate that thought, his slightly forked tongue ran across my chin, setting fire to my soaked skin.