adoptaconcubus

[adoptaconcubus]

Oryza

written for @sosoftandsweet

You could hear the cityscape outside the window, distant as if you were in a second-story room, the street and its bustling of motors and an apparent rain shower far below. It was in a different rhythm than you were used to; you wondered in your half-asleep mind if there had been some kind of accident that was disrupting the usual flow of traffic.

There was nothing to indicate such a crisis, though, just the smooth purr of motors one way and the other, the constant patter of rain. As you woke up a little more, you started to think about the sounds of traffic in different countries—the way some population centers had such reliable rail that it rendered a lot of cars less necessary, so all the motorized vehicles running down the street were bikes and delivery trucks. That might do it, make the pattern of the rumble so different from what you were accustomed to.

But how would you have gotten to one of those places?

You snapped awake mentally at that, but your body was slower to follow.

Your mind whirred trying to process everything you could, scents, sensations, still that same low rumble and the rhythm of the rain. You were in the position you had fallen asleep in—solidly at home, that you recalled—and tried to stretch out to get a sense of what was around you, but your limbs still felt a little leaden. Finally, your arms and legs shifted, and you felt satin smoothness against your skin.

Satin? Your eyes were ready to open now, so you lifted your lids, surprised by the late afternoon tone of the light that entered your eyes.

It was night when you went to bed. You hadn’t slept that long, had you? But then if you were in a different location, globally...

When your vision focused properly, it was to an unfamiliar room. You rubbed at your eyes, and a woman made her way over to you, extending a hand with long black nails.

You would have thought them just freshly done coffin nails, but you realized as her hand neared your face, coming to press on your shoulder, that they were claws.

“Hello?” you croaked.

“Stay still,” she told you, a little bit of sternness in her voice. “It’s been too long since I got my own food. I don’t want you sitting up and getting hurt. Bruised fruit and all that.”

Food? You? “What?”

She crouched next to the bed you were lying in, and you finally met her eyes—striking, in their jewel-like quality and the shape of her pupils. Captivating. You stayed still like she told you. “Where am I?” you asked her.

“Downtown Essur, the residential district, specifically.”

“Essur? Essur, where?”

“It’s been way too long, clearly. Essur is the largest city on this coast. You’re here in the realm of the concubi—joined populations of incubi and succubi—on my best sheets because meals are best served on fine tablecloths, don’t you think?”

You blinked at her, trying to put the pieces together as you took in her form there before you.

“Let’s try again.” She said, giving you a slightly tense smile. “I’m Kaia. I’m a succubus. And you are the tasty little morsel I’d like for dinner.”

Your eyes widened, and you swallowed. “Me?”

“Yes,” she told you, running a claw along the contours of your body over the satin sheet. “I can only imagine you’ve heard some things about succubi; we find ourselves as fascinations in the human imagination from time to time.”

Her claw kept running along your side, up and down, the pressure light but very noticeable. “But I assure you, a lot of what people say isn’t quite accurate. We do feed off latent sexual energy, and take great pride and pleasure—naturally—in stoking more. But we won’t drink you dry. Leave you sore in the morning? Maybe. But don’t the best always?” She let her flat hand stroke across you, almost petting you.

“What are you going to do?” you asked her.

“If you give me permission?” she asked. “Anything you like. Anything you enjoy. Nothing else.”

“But I don’t know what I—”

She shushed you softly. “Well, you’ll certainly find out tonight. We can find out together. And I’d like to start, if you don’t mind,” she went on, curling her fingers to scratch the satin, and your skin below it, making you shiver. “Because like I said, it’s been too long since I had to get my own food. I thought I could coast.” She swallowed. “I can’t. I’m hungry.”

You shifted under the sheet, lying on your back, open to her. “All right. Don’t starve.”

Kaia settled her knee on the mattress beside you, her teeth gleaming when she gave you a grin this time. “Oh I won’t. I’m going to be quite sated.”

You had expected her to peel back the sheet—and it had only occurred to you as you turned under it that the reason you felt her nails so well was that you were nude—but she left it over you, still ghosting her touch over your body as she came closer to you, one hand exploring your body, the other supporting her weight so she could ever so slowly bring her lips to yours.

It was a deep kiss from the start, intoxicating the moment her lips parted against yours. You wondered in the back of your mind if that was a trait of concubi like her—a way to engender further desire and facilitate feeding. But you didn’t care, not when you were learning in a very exciting fashion just how sensitive the roof of your mouth was. As she took a deep breath in through her nose, Kaia retracted a little bit, though she did her utmost not to actually break the kiss. The result was her subtly inviting you closer, further in.

Your little gasp of surprise at the inversion applied just a bit of suction to her tongue, and she hummed into it, letting her hand slip between your satin-clad legs, brushing against the insides of your thighs, teasing just a little.

You weren’t sure when you’d freed your arms from the sheet so you could wrap them around her, but one rested across her shoulders to keep her close, and the other hand was nestled in her hair, its texture spread and bunched between your fingers. Her skin under your arm was warm, warmer than you expected, but delicious against your fingertips.

“Kaia,” you breathed when there was space between your lips and hers.

She kissed your jaw, thrilling in the sound of her name off your tongue, finally letting her fingers brush against the satin separating you from her. While it diffused the caress, it didn’t weaken the sensation at all, and the pleasure it brought sparked low in your belly, ready to boil.

Your hips shifted, trying to ask for more, and she chuckled low, giving you another slow stroke upward, letting her nails flick up at the end this time, drawing a sharp gasp from you.

“Good?” she asked, settling her fingers back on you, rubbing a small circle at varying speed.

“Yes,” you answered her.

“Good,” she purred, “because it’ll be quite satisfying.”

She let her fingers pick up the pace, until you began to press against them, then she took them away.

“Can I get rid of this?” she asked you, rubbing the sheet between her fingers.

You grumbled with what was quickly going from anticipation to frustration. “Yes, yes, please don’t stop what you were doing.”

She tossed the sheet away, and settled on her knees between your legs, her fingers finding you again and finishing what she’d started.

When you reached the peak, Kaia let her eyes close, listening to the heavy breaths and having her fill of your satiety, her hand still working slowly, easing you back down.

“However,” she said when you came back toward baseline and her eyes were open again, “perhaps I could have a taste for dessert?” Her lips parted, a deep want showing in her eyes before she broke out in a smile.

You nodded, still a little breathless. “In a minute, though,” you asked, holding her hands where they rested on your legs.

“Oh, of course. What a terrible host I was, never offering you a drink to start with.” She kissed the inside of your knee, then rose, returning moment later with a glass she offered to you. “Horchata. It’s made with rice from the paddies I live on when I'm further inland.”

You sipped it, delighting in the subtle bite of the cinnamon in it, soothed by the sweetness of the rice. Every sip was like Kaia had been, measured and equal in both excitement and simple pleasure.

Before you knew it, you had finished the glass.

“You can have more if you’d like it,” she told you. “It’s only fair; you sate my hunger, I quench your thirst And you will need the hydration,” she told you with a grin, hands sliding down the outsides of your legs as she started getting into position.

“I’ll have to have you over for dinner again, if you wouldn’t mind,” she remarked, resting her chin low on your stomach so she could look up at you. “I don’t know why I languished so long under the impression any innamorato could feed me nearly as well as you have tonight.” She met your eyes, winked, and then feasted her eyes on the sight of you, her ears on your moans, and her tongue on this delectable course.