#.....I know NOTHING about food in New Jersey so if anyone else has expertise that would be appreciated

[thelastspeecher]

currently accepting recommendations for what sort of specialty food is served at the Pines Family Kitchen in my Restaurant AU, where Stan opens up a restaurant

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Poison: Part Four

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill, fluff and angst

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there is any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated.

Feedback is gold, and it’s the only currency I take

The hospital isn’t a good place for you to be in because of all the patients coming in and pretending to be sick, but it’s a lot better than the police station only because Spencer isn’t there. He’s here with you, so you’re able to focus on him instead of all the panic. You need to figure out which cases are real so you can determine just where they were poisoned and how to stop it from happening again.

“I really can't talk right now. We just got hammered,” the nurse sighs.

“Listen, most of these food poisonings are probably psychosomatic,” you reveal.

“What makes you think that?”

“A news broadcast just reported a local restaurant was poisoned. Now, it would be a huge coincidence if there was another poisoning right after that aired,” JJ explains for you.

“So what do you want me to do?”

“Help us find out which cases, if any, are real,” Spencer answers.

“People are coming in with all kinds of complaints. But, there's at least one case that isn't psychosomatic. Lynn Dempsey. She's barely breathing.”

“Can you take us to the doctor that's treating that patient?”

“I'll call Hotch,” JJ says and takes out her phone.

The doctor comes almost immediately just as soon as JJ is done updating your boss. The doctor escorts you to the woman who has a hard time breathing, and you can tell this is a real case based on what the doctor says as well as the vibes you’re getting from the woman.

“When the patient got here, she didn't remember anything about her day. Her speech was so slurred, I could barely understand her,” the doctor reveals.

“It sounds like Rohypnol. Did you test her?” Spencer wonders.

“She was positive for Rohypnol, negative for LSD. But we're running more tests because Rohypnol alone doesn't explain her symptoms. She presented with nausea, difficulty swallowing, and labored breathing. She was also having trouble moving her legs.”

“How long had she been sick?” you ask.

“She didn't know. I could barely understand her when she first got here. Now, she can't speak at all.”

“Do you know any biological agents that have similar symptoms: ricin or sarin gas?” Spencer asks.

“You think this is a biological attack?”

“We can't rule anything out.”

“I'll order a few more tests,” he sighs and leaves you three alone with the woman.

The poor woman is coughing and having a hard time breathing into her oxygen mask. She whimpers in pain, tosses and turns, and just looks like she isn’t having that much fun.

“I’ll take a look at her. Let me see if I can get anything out of her,” you offer.

“She can’t speak,” JJ says.

“I don’t need that to communicate with her,” you say and walks over to the woman.

Lynn barely opens her eyes to look at you, and you give her the kindest eyes you can muster up.

“Hi, my name is Y/N Y/L/N. I am only here to help. May I take your hand?” you ask and hold out your own.

She seems too eager to do so, and she grabs your hand as if it will cure her. Almost immediately upon contact, you get visions of her past right before she was poisoned. Your eyes close as the images transmit to you. Lynn is at the bank. She’s in line waiting to get some money taken out of her account. She grabs some candy out of a bowl as she waits and decides to cut her wait time in half by grabbing an envelope and writing her information down on it. She takes a step forward when the man in front of her does, and that’s where the vision ends. There is nothing out of the ordinary that is going on, so you’re not sure why you got that specific scene.

You open your eyes and look at Spencer and JJ. They half-expected you to get a definitive clue or something to lead them down a path, but you just shake your head. Your hand slips from Lynn’s, but as soon as you lose contact, she reaches up and grips your hand tightly. You look back at her to see her eyes open wide. She stopped coughing long enough to want to tell you something.

“JJ, Spencer, I think she’s trying to say something,” you say.

“The end…” Lynn barely gets out before having a coughing fit.

“The end…?” JJ questions.

You close your eyes once more in hopes that whatever she’s trying to tell you will show up in the visions you get. All you’re getting, however, is her picking up an envelope from the bank so she can use it for her money purposes.

“She may be incoherent from the lack of oxygen,” Spencer states.

Lynn pulls away hastily and turns on her side to let out a coughing fit. You take one step back and look at Spencer with a sad look.

“Doctor!” JJ calls. Once he’s inside Lynn’s room, she continues. “So, what are the chances that she's not poisoned, that maybe she just got some bad food?”

“Highly improbable. Chances are basically nil.”

“What is the rate of survival?” you ask.

“With this dose and without anti-toxin... zero.”

Lynn suddenly goes into V-Fib, and Spencer grips your shoulders to gently move you out of the way. You step back into his body to let the doctor and nurses through,  but you don’t move once they do pass. You’re basically watching Lynn slowly die right in front of your eyes, and there is nothing you can do to help her. All you got is her at the bank, touching some candy, and writing on an envelope. How the hell is that going to help anyone?

“Doctor, her BP is dropping rapidly,” the nurse states.

Lynn’s heart can't hold out any longer, and you turn away so you don’t have to watch her die. You shrug out of Spencer’s arms and leave the hospital room. Him and JJ aren’t that far behind you. If you have even one more soul on your consciousness, there’s no telling what kind of nightmares you’ll have or if you can even handle another soul.

While you were with Lynn and experiencing her last few moments on Earth, Elle and Derek were at the bank looking through the security footage to see if they could spot a common denominator with all the victims. Every single person that was infected came into this bank, so it has to be the key to figuring out where this substance came from and who put it there—most importantly, who is the targeted audience. It’s why experts are testing the candy to see if what she touched is actually poisoned or not.

“Lynn Dempsey was an executive assistant. She has no expertise with chemicals. She doesn't fit the profile of the unsub,” Gideon notes.

“But the CDC found both LSD and Rohypnol in the candy she was replacing at the bank,” Derek says.

“She must have been an accomplice, and when the unsub finished using her to further his attack, he killed her with Botulism.”

“So, what does that tell us about the unsub?” Gideon asks the group.

“He's far more sophisticated than we realized,” you answer.

“Why is that?”

“The Botulism toxin is the deadliest substance known to man. It blocks Acetylcholine receptors, paralyzing its victims until, basically, choking you to death. Without an antitoxin, a lethal dose will kill you in thirty-six hours,” you try to explain, knowing only Spencer will truly understand what you’re saying.

“How many people have access to this stuff?” Elle wonders.

“In New Jersey, quite a few. It's actually the pharmaceutical and chemical capital of the US. So, that the toxin can be ordered in the form of Botox through any chemical or biological lab or Botox clinic. It has to be purified, but any chemist or lab assistant has that capability,” Spencer answers.

“So, we're looking for chemists and sophisticated lab assistants?”

“Basically,” you and Spencer say at the same time.

“Okay, wait a minute. If the unsub is a chemist with access to the toxin, what'd he need Dempsey for?” Derek wonders.

“Well, we don't know yet. But she worked for a company, called, uh... Hichcock Pharmaceuticals. I think there's a good chance the unsub worked there, too,” Gideon reads off his notes.

“Let's start with people who fit the profile who've had a recent stressor.”

“Like, anybody fired from Hichcock in the past six months.”

“Yeah, or demoted. Not recognized for their hard work. Anyone who seems under appreciated. Let me call Penelope,” you state and take out your phone.

You call her, and once you get her over the line, you quickly explain what is going on and what you need her raw talent. You place her on speakerphone for all to hear so you don’t have to repeat what she says.

“Hichcock's a giant company, Sugar Shack, and there were over a hundred people fired just this past year.”

“And so far, none of them fit the profile?”

“No. But, I do have thirty names of people who were downsized and shunted off to other lame companies with a cut in pay and benefits.”

“That’ll work,” you nod.

“Alright, send us the names. We'll cross-reference them with civil and criminal complaints filed with local PD. But I want you to keep digging, and while you're at it, look for any connection to the First New Jersey Federal Bank,” Derek asks ever so nicely.

“I'm on it, Angel,” she says, and you hang up.

“Our guys acting like a workplace mass murderer. He'd stay close—seething—and he'd plan his revenge,” Hotch points out.

“Well, if he is a workplace killer, what else does that tell us about him?”

“For one, they don't give themselves up. He's lost his empathy and his moral compass. He's capable of anything.”

“All those innocent people at the bank,” you mutter regretfully.

“They meant nothing to him. He'll take out anybody to forward his cause,” Gideon says.

“Like Dempsey.”

“Correct, and eventually, even himself. Not until he finishes taking out his primary targets.”

“We have no idea where he's going to strike next. For all we know, he could poison the local reservoir,” Derek groans.

“Well, the local cops haven't gotten any leads out of Dempsey. Why don't you go to Hichcock and see if you have any luck,” Hotch says to Elle who is already out of her chair.

“You got it,” she states and leaves.

Elle didn’t really get anything out of Lynn’s desk. Her assistant told her that Lynn wasn’t the best at holding high self-esteem and was a very quiet person in general. Most assistants and their bosses talk about what goes on in their personal life and are basically friends, but not Lynn and her assistant. She barely knew one thing about Lynn. It came up as a dead end, so you, Derek, and Gideon are researching who got laid off at Hichcock and if it was brutal enough to warrant deadly actions to get revenge.

Derek is sitting at the computer with you looming over his shoulder so you can read what he has up. Gideon is looking at the town’s map to see if he can come up with a geological profile. There haven't been a lot of people who were brutally laid off, but there are some that make you so sad to think that after all the time they spent in the company, it’s wasted.

“Gideon, some of these lay-offs were brutal. This one chemical engineer, he'd been at Hichcock for nineteen years when he was downsized,” Derek notes.

“Damn, that’s harsh,” you mutter.

“Yeah, that could certainly inspire homicidal rage, huh?”

“The guy was in his late forties and the head of his department. He definitely had a generous severance package,” you read.

“A lot of these guys don't have enough pension. They may not be happy about it, but I don't see them killing anyone,” Gideon states.

Derek’s phone rings, and you see that it’s Penelope calling with hopefully some good news. He answers it and puts it on speakerphone.

“Talk to me, Hot Stuff.”

“Get this, Cochise. I found a chemist who works at a company that was bought by Hichcock called Palmay Cosmetics. Now, here's the thing. Lynn Dempsey applied for a loan at New Jersey Federal Bank around the same time this chemist applied for a patent on this anti-aging, breakthrough technology thing called PCO-99.”

“So, you’re saying he applied for a loan in her name to make his product?” you ask.

“That's what I thought, but both the loan and the patent were rejected because Hichcock had already applied for the patent and the patent deal had gone through, drumroll please, at New Jersey Federal Bank. I'm tracking his cell phone and it won't be long before I have his location.”

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[thiswasinevitableid]

5, sternclay, nsfw? 👀

Here you go

5: Incubus

“Buddy, I promise, you can come in and cuddle in like, ten minutes.” 

The whining at the bedroom door stops, replaced by a big, wet nose, just visible through the crack at the bottom of the door as it snuffles back and forth. It’s very cute, but Barclay is not about to let his dog deprive him of a much needed jerk-off session.

He’s ready for bed, so it’s just a matter of pulling down his pajama pants and getting to it. Closing his eyes, he pictures that cute customer who gets black coffee and a croissant every morning at the Lodge. It takes a few tries to find a fantasy he likes, the one about the back counter and the new uses for a spatula.

Outside the door, Sass starts whining again, scratching frantically at the wood. There goes his deposit. 

God, he can practically feel the guy up against him.

The bed dips on the outside of each thigh. Opening his eyes reveals a man wearing nothing but deep blue boxer briefs and a smile. 

“Holyshitwhatthefuck?” He clambers back, banging his head on the wall in his hurry to sit up, “what the fuck man, how’d you get in here?”

“A portal between dimensions.  That’s the, um, simplified version. But don’t worry, I’m not here to hurt you. The opposite really. I’m an incubus.”

“Why the fuck is a fucking sex demon in my bedroom?” Barclay yanks his pants up. The incubus looks sad at this development. 

“I feed on sexual energy, and to do that I follow trails of that same energy to their source. You have a lot of it.”

“Yeah, year-long dry spell’ll do that.”

“Consider it broken.” The demon leans forward only for Barclay to hold up a hand.

“Nope. This is not how I want to break it. Sorry.”

“Is it my appearance? I can look like anyone--or anything--you want.” His features morph, eyes going from brown to blue to green, hair from honey-blond to fire red, “if you’re shy, my powers let me see into your deepest fantasies and make them come true.”

“No that’s not the problem, I wanna fuck someone I have some kinda connection to, not some guy who dropped into my bedroom. And would you please knock it off with that face-changing? I’m not gonna fuck you, so you can just look like yourself.”

The incubus starts, surprised by his sharp refusal, features landing on short, black hair, blue eyes, and a face that’d make a movie-star insecure. 

“I said you don’t have to try and be hot.”

“...This is how I look.” 

“Oh. Uh. Cool.” 

The demon smiles, “Having second thoughts?”

He takes a deep breath and lies through his teeth, “Nope.”

With that, he stands, grabbing the nearest shirt and pulling it on. Sass wiggles when he opens the door, takes one look behind him, and runs the other way.

“I wish I knew why earth canines react that way to me. I have a hellhound named Mother Leeds who adores me.”

“Jersey Devil reference?” He pads into the kitchen, starts the kettle and rummages in the cabinet for the most soothing tea blend he owns. 

“Yes!” The demon grins from his new position by the fridge, “when I found her she was pregnant with a litter. Most people don’t get it. Demons don’t either.”

“Friend of mine likes Mothman and all that kinda stuff. Uh” He takes a cup down, reaches for a second one automatically and then stops, “are you gonna hang around? Because my answer isn’t changing and if you keep pestering me I’ll just leave the apartment.”

“No, I’ll drop it. You’re not interested and sexual energy only works if it’s from something consensual. But, um” he toys with a magnet, “could I ask a few questions before I go?”

“About?”

“Humans. How things work up here, what your daily lives are like, that sort of thing.”

“Uh, sure.” He gets down the second mug, “is this so you can better seduce them or something?” Turning, he finds the incubus sitting at the table, producing a small notebook and pen from the air.

“No, this is my own research. I’m, um, more curious about humans than the average demon. I basically ended up an incubus because at my last job I kept trying to talk with humans or spend more time around them than was wise and, well, my supervisor got sick of it. So they offered me a reassignment to a role where the whole point was to be around people.”

“You fuck people just so you can, like, interview them afterwards?” He sets the two mugs on the table, notices that the notebook is crammed with questions in neat, elegant handwriting. 

“Technically, I also need the energy from it. But, um, yes” he blushes, “I know it’s a sort of silly hobby.”

“I don’t think it’s silly to wanna know about other worlds and people. But this doesn’t seem like the most, uh, effective way to do it.”

A sigh as the demon picks up his mug, “You’ve got that right. Sometimes I can get a few questions in during ‘pillow talk’ but mostly it’s in and out. Literally.” He snickers at his own bad joke, which further kindles the inexplicable, protective impulse Barclay feels towards him, “Don’t get me wrong, I like my work, and being a good incubus takes skill and dedication. It just...isn’t quite what I thought it’d be.” He sips the tea, brings the mug away from his mouth to study the liquid, “what kind is this?”

“Mostly chamomile.” 

“Chamomile…” he flips through the book, which contains more pages than should be physically and spatially possible, “that’s a plant, one that humans thing is calming, right?”

Barclay can’t help but smile, “Right. You want me to sit here and quiz you?”

“No, there’s too much to discover. What would you say is your area of expertise?” 

“I’m a cook, so food.”

“Food, food, ah here it is. Let’s see, why do humans persist in eating things that could kill them?”

“You mean things like rhubarb or are we in, like, Fugu territory here?”

The demon smiles, “I have no idea, please say more.”

They sit at the table until two in the morning, at which point Joseph ,the incubus, excuses himself to go collect energy from a willing participant. Before he disappears, he takes a chance and tells Joseph that he can come back if he has more questions. The demon thanks him and, out of what Barclay suspects is a habit more than anything else, blows him a kiss goodbye. 

----------------------------------------

“Y’know, I kinda figured you’d look more demonic. Do incubi just get human forms?” Barclay shakes red pepper flakes onto his pizza while Joseph finishes a filled breadstick. 

“This isn’t my ‘true’ form. When you asked me just to look like myself when we met, I figured you meant the least alarming version.”

“As long as it’s not, like, a beast with a thousand eyes, we’re good.”

Joseph wipes his mouth and by the time the napkin reaches the other corner of his lips, Barclay is gasping.

His nails turn sharp and silver, his eyes pure black, but it’s his skin that’s most noticeable; it’s swirls and swoops of blue and silver, dancing down his arms and blooming out from the neck of his  “Museum of Anthropology” souvenir shirt. He stands, giving Barclay a fuller view. Short horns sprout from his head, doubtless the perfect size and texture to hold him in place with your dick down his throat. His tail is that same mix of royal blue and silver, the right length to wrap around your hand and tug while you fuck him. Every inch of him is made to be pinched and pulled, groped and fondled, and Barclay will not be standing up from the table any time soon.

“It’s the color that gets people.” Joseph smiles with pointed teeth as he sits back down.

“It’s incredible, Joseph.”

The demon smiles, mischievous, “I’m glad you like it. Now, where were we?” He uncovers his notebook from a stack of parmesan packets and clicks his pen, appearance fading back to the human one Barclay is used to. He mourns his loss for a moment, before Joseph draws him into an animated conversation about movie theaters. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Come on Sass, it’s okay. Look, I even have your favorite.” Joseph holds out the treat, still fresh from the oven, while Barclay puts the rest of the batch out of range. The dog no longer runs from the demon, but will not come within arms reach of him. 

Sass whines, looking from Joseph to Barclay and back. 

“Here” Barclay settles on the couch next to him, resting his arm along the back of it, “see, buddy, he’s our friend.”

Sass creeps forward, still on his belly, plucks the treat from Joseph’s palm, and retreats to his bed. 

“Progress.” Joseph leans back, pleased. Their positions mean he comes to rest with Barclays arm around him. Barclay doesn’t move it, and the demon stays put until the end of the episode of Hells’ Kitchen

------------------------------------------

The newest Agent X is so engrossing that Barclay doesn’t register Joseph until his friend slumps onto the bed. 

“Hey, you’re early.” He sets the book down on the nightstand, scooching to where the demon sits rubbing his forehead.

“I’m, um, I’m having a bit of a problem.” When he looks up, silver and blue peeks through the skin on his face, “I misjudged how much energy I was going to get from my last two visits. I’m so weak I don’t think I can make it back home. I, um, I came here because if I’m going to be stuck and without powers I” his horns appear and he scratches them awkwardly, “I want it to be around someone I trust.”

“What’ll happen if you can’t get more energy?”

“I’ll get sick, and if the worst happens I’ll have to signal for someone to come get me. Which’ll get me demoted for sure.” He tucks his legs up onto the bed. He’s wearing the UFO socks Barclay gave him as a surprise last week, and the cook sets a hand on a flying-saucer covered ankle. 

“You can stay as long as you need, okay? And if there’s anything else I can do to help, let me know.”

“Unless you feel like taking me door to door to ask your neighbors if they want to fuck, a safe place to rest is what I need most.”

“What if, uh, you recharged here?” He draws a finger up and down the side of Josephs’ calf.

The incubus raises his eyebrows, “Barclay, are you forgetting how we met?”

“I didn’t want to fuck you then, but now...now you’re you, this handsome, clever, dorky guy who also happens to be a sex demon who hangs around my house most nights. I, I didn’t ask about sooner because I was afraid you’d think it was fuck me or lose our friendship, but if I can help you in a kinda self-serving way, I’m down.”

Joseph shakes his head, “That’s sweet, but you’re not the only one with concerns. How can I be sure you actually want me, and you’re not just offering because you want to help?”

Barclay snaps his fingers, “You can read my deepest desires, right? How about you take a peek and tell me what you see?”

Joseph closes his eyes, tail twitching as he concentrates, and Barclay gets the distinct pleasure of watching his face as he learns the truth. 

“Oh. OH. Um, you’re not kidding about how badly you want me. And some of this makes the reaction you had the one time I showed up in a suit make way more sense. But we can explore that later.” His eyes, now-pitch black, snap open, “right now, big guy, I’ll do whatever you want, however you want it.” 

“In that case” Barclay catches Joseph just as he tries for a kiss, “how about you tell me what you want?”

“Barclay, I’m an incubus, I want whatever the person I’m feeding on wants.”

“Nuhuh, I don’t buy that, babe. You’re telling me there’s nothing that’s your favorite, or that you’re curious about?” He teases their lips together.

“N-no?”

“You’re not getting any kisses until you tell me the truth.”

Joseph narrows his eyes with a “hmmph.” Then, as if it’s his greatest secret, he whispers, “I want to know what it’s like to get a massage as foreplay. No one’s ever wanted it or offered, and it sounds so nice.”

Barclay rewards him with a kiss. The demon melts against him, slides a forked tongue into his mouth to tease it. Clawed fingers tug at his shirt until Joseph remembers he can do magic and renders them both naked with a wave of the hand.

When they part, Joseph licks his lips, “Holy hell, Barclay, that kiss was enough to make me feel better than I did this morning. Tastes nice too, like coffee with lots of cream.”

“So, coffee the way you like it.” Barclay nudges him backwards, rolls him over as the incubus keeps talking. 

“Usually it’s a neutral sweetness. I wonder, hmm, maybe it has something to do with the fact you’re attracted to me, as in the actual meOHohhhhhhh” he flattens into the bed like a cat on a sunny floor as Barclay digs his thumbs under his shoulder blades. 

“You can theorize later babe, I promise. Right now, all you gotta do is let me rub you down. Uh, can you magic up some oil or something? It’ll feel better if--great, thanks.” Barclay sets the lit massage candle safely on the nightstand, waiting for it to melt. 

“Should I put my human form back on now that I can hold it?”

“Nope” he traces his hands up parallel patches of silver, pinches one horn playfully, “I love that version of you, but this one is so, so, fucking hot. Now” be kisses the base of his neck, “relax.”

Drizzling liquid wax down his spine makes the incubus moan, but the sound is nothing compared to what happens when he starts kneading him like dough. It’s a yowl, rough and inelegant in a way Joseph never is, and Barclay dedicates the next fifteen minutes to finding new ways to trigger it. He’s so beautiful, it’s like touching a painting, a galaxy, a miracle.

By the time he reaches his lower back the incubus is grinding on the bed and Barclay is half-hard from touching him. He grips Joseph’s ass, parting it enough to grind between the cheeks. 

“Don’t tease” his tail delivers a scolding thwack to Barclays cheek. The cook growls, turning his head to capture the offending appendage between his teeth.

“OHholyffffffuckinghell.” Joseph rips the blanket as he flails, “no one’s ever thought to do that before and now I really wish they had.”

That’s all the encouragement he needs. He ignores his growing hard-on in favor of nipping and kissing his way down Joseph’s tail. It’s velvety, feels like nothing he’s ever experienced as it twitches and trembles under his tongue. The base gets an extra-hard lovebite and Joseph moans, rolling over so fast he nearly catches Barclay in the face with his cock. And what a cock, on the narrow side but covered in swirling ridges.

“Holy shit, you just get hotter and hotter.”

“Th-thank you, big guy, now for gods sake pleeEEEase fuck me.” He whimpers adorably when Barclay licks up his shaft. 

“Okay babe, we can fuck. But I think…” he grabs the incubus, flipping them so Joseph straddles him, “I want you to fuck me.”

Joseph registers his words and his eyes glow deep blue. 

“Uh, is that a good thing?”

“Yes, big guy, it’s the closest I get to having my pupils dilate when aroused. And since you look so good underneath me, I’ll expedite things” he snaps his fingers and Barclay inhales in surprise; his ass is dripping lube and stretched like someone just pulled three fingers away from it.

“Fuck yeah” he spreads his legs, “c’mon blue eyes, don’t make me wait anymoreOHFUCK, fuck, yeah, like that.” He hooks his legs around Joseph as the incubus thrusts all the way in. Joseph kisses in precise shapes up and down his face, even as his hips keep a rapid, erratic rhythm. 

“Shit, shit, Barclay you taste so good, feel so good, please, please don’t stop touching me.”

“Not sure I could ever keep my hands to myself again, babe, god you’re so fucking handsomeAH, hah, someone got a praise kink?” He gasps out laughter as Joseph fucks him harder with each kind word. The ridges on his cock are solid enough that Barclay feels them with each drag, and it sets his toes curling.

“Maybe a little one” the incubus smiles against his neck, “though kink is a distinctly human concept and a complex one-SHITfuck, fuck please do that again.” He kisses Barclay hard as the human obligingly pulls his tail with one hand and smacks his ass with the other. Teeth catch Barclay’s lower lip on the next tug, a moan spilling from Josephs’ mouth down his chin. 

“That’s it baby, fuck me while I rough you up, fuck, Joseph, your dick is fucking perfect, never gonna want another one, c’mon please, I’m close.”

Joseph sits up, grinning joyfully, and grips Barclays cock. It’s a masterful handjob, because how could a sex demon give anything else, but what strikes Barclay most is how happy and relaxed Joseph is. The incubus admitted once that even when he was having sex, he constantly worried about fulfilling the fantasy to earn enough energy to feed. Yet here he’s laughing and smiling, eyes aglow as he works Barclay up to the best orgasm of his life. 

It means something; Barclay only hopes Joseph will stay in his life long enough for him to figure out what. 

He’s too busy with the sparks behind his eyelids and the pleasure coursing down from his head to his toes to note that Joseph managed to make them cum at the same time. The incubus pushes a hand through his fair, swooping it back and off his face, as he notes this accomplishment. 

“I want to run a marathon. Or maybe go hiking, or swim the lake. I have so much energy. Barclay, it’s amazing. You, it’s never been like that before. It’s felt good, but that was fucking transcendent. 

“No fucking kidding.” Barclay shifts onto his side, nestling up against him so his head is under Joseph’s chin. He yawns, kisses a blue shoulder, “but you might have to burn off some energy without me. You wore me out, blue eyes.”

Joseph adjusts his arms so he’s holding him, “If I stay the night, can I walk Sass with you in the morning?”

Barclay nods, already falling asleep, safe in the knowledge that Joseph is okay and, better yet, so fond of him that his eyes are still glowing, “You got a deal, babe.”